Fate is a big word
by Happymood
Summary: AU Almost killing someone with a vase wasn't really the best first encounter, but sometimes Arthur really wished he could turn back time and try not to miss the other's head this time... FrUk Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. I'm not supposed to spend my time writing right now, but plot bunnies bit me hard in the back and won't let me alone until I write down my thoughts. And, of course, I'm not someone who simply ignores plot bunnies… XD This is just the prologue, but if many are interested in this, I am going to continue it. **

**_Fate is a big word_**

Considering he had four older brothers who seemed to think that pestering him to death, hurt him physically and emotionally without any reason whatsoever (at least to him) was the best way to say they loved him, few friends (well, actually, make that just one annoying, bubbly, too full of himself friend) and a job he actually despised (and sometimes wondered why he had let go of his dream of becoming a punk singer –wait, maybe he knew why), Arthur Kirkland didn't hate his life.

Actually he was quite fond of his routine, and he felt really comfortable in his (morning tea-job-home-annoying call from friend and family-crosswords-sleep) way of life. He wouldn't change his days for nothing in this world. Even Alfred (always the hero!), who was his only friend, and who had tried immensurable times to take him out and show him what life really was, had failed to make him see that embroidery wasn't a common hobby, that being a British _extraordinaire _(as he called himself once when he was too drunk to remember it afterwards) wasn't that interesting, and that people did prefer to drink beer with friends rather than alone in a corner of a pub, moping, complaining about a life that they didn't want to change in the first place.

Yes. Arthur Kirkland was a simple character as that.

So, it wasn't a surprise that (now that he looked back at it) that _accident _had been the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. He hadn't realized then how much his (morning tea-job-home-annoying call from friend and family-crosswords-sleep) schedule would be turned totally upside down until much later, when it was too late to do anything about it.

And the most awful thing was that it all started with a vase.

His favorite vase to be exact. The vase his mother had brought him from Christmas when he was still too young to appreciate gardening, but old enough to know that it's more polite not to whine and accept the gift with a smile. The very first gift he received from anyone and the last from his mother. A rarity.

The time of day when the accident happened was between his annoying call from friend and family and crosswords time. His 'annoying call from friend and family' had been a call from his older brother William, in which the latter had managed to totally piss him off in the worst way possible, and had even dared to hung up on him when they where reaching the most heated part of their… discussion.

To this day Arthur can't really remember what they had been arguing about, but it had upset Arthur so much that he had decided to leave his unfinished crossword for later and start sweeping the floor with much more force than necessary just to take his mind off things. Of course it didn't work, and he decided to sweep the balcony's floor too just because he never thought of doing it before.

He was so not concentrating on the task at hand and had accidentally bumped into his favorite vase, home to his favorite lilies, which had been perilously standing on the balcony's handrail. When he realized what he done, it was already too late. Arthur had turned his green eyes just in time to see the bottom of the vase as it fell down from the handrail. His terrified, manly squeak did nothing to bring the vase back on its place, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard the characteristically sound of earthenware against the pavement reached his ears a moment later.

He immediately clutched the handrail and looked down, saw his lilies scattered around the road, shards of his favorite vase everywhere and a pair of blue eyes looking up at him in wonder.

"Oh, my God!" Arthur shouted, finally aware that he almost hit a passerby with his vase. The man looked at him, seemingly okay, but still too shocked to move, and Arthur put a hand against his forehead, bit his lips and shouted: "Sorry, I-! Well… Oh, my God, are you okay?"

The blond man blinked at him, then looked down at the broken vase before turning his eyes at Arthur again.

"You almost killed me." The man said with a strange (Arthur swore it was French) accent in the way he pronounced the words.

"Are you okay?" Arthur decided to ask instead, fully aware that his question was pointless and a stupid one at that. The man raised a (fine, blond, so in contrast to Arthur's bushy) eyebrow and snorted:

"Are you kidding me?"

It wasn't the answer Arthur had been expecting.

"Hey!" Arthur said, suddenly pissed off, "I didn't do it on purpose! It was an accident!"

"Well, I never thought crashing vases on passersby's heads was a British way to say hello, but thank you for clarifying that for me." The man said, brushing imaginary dirt from his (perfectly clean) suit, and looked up at Arthur again.

"It was a bloody accident!" Arthur said, groaning and then added: "But if you are so in the mood for jokes, then it means you are perfectly fine and you don't need to be such an arse about it!"

"Such strong words from a _petit_ mouth like yours it's astounding!" the man retorted, almost smirking at him. Arthur immediately realized that he didn't like the guy.

"I said I was sorry, okay?" Arthur said then, trying to ignore that voice inside him that told him to throw the broom at the other man's head and try not to miss him _this time_. "Listen…" he tried to count to ten, calmed himself down, took a big breath and added: "What about I offer you a cup of tea to apologize?"

The man's response was immediate:

"Are you flirting with me?"

"What?" Arthur screeched, blushing ten shades of red, "_NO_!"

"In that case, I'm not interested. Thanks for the offer." The man said, surpassing the broken vase with an elegant step to the side, "It was a _pleasure_ meeting you." He said, waving at him and walking away.

Arthur's eyes were wide as saucers and, as he clutched the handrail much harder, shouted:

"Jackass!"

The blond man just raised a hand in mock salute once more, and Arthur was just glad that he wasn't going to see that man ever again. He groaned, cursed, stomped his foot on the ground and immediately went down, broom in one hand and dustpan in the other, to go and sweep the pavement clean from the mess his vase created when it crashed down on the floor.

The nerve of some people! He thought to himself. Arguing with William did wonders to his mood, but the encounter with that man had seriously put his patience at stake. Arthur was just sad that his vase was broken (he blamed his brother for that), and wondered if it was an okay thing to patch it all up again with rolls and rolls of sticky tape.

It wasn't going to look beautiful, but at least he would have managed to save his favorite gift…

"Oh, fuck it!" Arthur shouted, and threw it all in the first dustbin he could find.

His mother would be so proud if she could see him then.

Damn William.

And damn that man who managed to worsen his mood just a tiny bit more.

The next morning Arthur Kirkland's morning started just like any other day with the only difference there was a vase less of lilies to tend on the balcony. Arthur's heart clenched at the memory, but he swallowed his sadness down with his morning tea, checked the wall clock and decided he would have enough time to take a shower before heading out to work.

He put on a grey suit, combed his messy, dirty blond hair, took his suitcase and, like any other respectable man out there, nodded courtly at the doorman before making a step outside.

He worked in an office and his only job (day in, day out) was filling stacks and stacks of paperwork, make copies of it and send it to his bosses. His wage was okay, his working hours fair enough and the probability something extraordinary could happen was minimal if nonexistent.

Scratch the last word.

Because that day something extraordinary _did_ happen as Arthur took his place in his cubicle, nodded at his colleagues and finally realized that no one was paying attention to him because everyone was trying to look above each other's shoulder at something Arthur couldn't see.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked trying to see what the fuss was all about. No one had a clear answer for him, and Arthur in the end managed to see on his own the reason for such an ungentlemanly behavior (by climbing on a chair to look above everybody else's heads) .

Blue eyes met his, and Arthur almost fell down from the chair he was standing on, down on the floor in the same way his vase had done just the day before, landing before the same man that was now looking at him with a mist of wonder and annoyance in his eyes.

And _that_ was how Arthur Kirkland's perfectly fine life started going downhill.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. Thank you so much for the reviews! Okay, since it has gotten all this attention, I decided to continue! So here is the next part! Enjoy. :D **

One of Francis Bonnefoy's most envied virtues was his modesty. If someone asked if there was something else to be envious about on him, Francis Bonnefoy would immediately describe his impeccable style, his amazing blue eyes, his wavy blond hair, his delicate skin and, of course, his gorgeous ass, among other things Francis couldn't really talk about because there were kids listening.

Nevertheless, he was a modest man, and he would never, ever rub his gorgeousness in another, much less luckier, human being's face. It wasn't in his character, as he preferred to make the other feel better of himself rather than worse, make them feel loved and appreciated rather than something that should be better go ignored (and, of course, it's easier to get the job done when the other is dead sexy).

It was that kind of attitude that helped him get whoever Francis desired, male or female, Francis didn't have any problems with either of them. Love had no gender, and he loved to love.

So imagine his shock when he saw that _vase _crashing down an inch away from his feet. It took him a while to understand what happened, less than a second to realize everything the world would lose (what _he_ would lose!) if that damned vase had been standing just an inch closer to him. No wonder he had looked completely devastated when he looked up to see the culprit of such an almost-murder.

And maybe he had overreacted a little when that (cute, but too bushy eyebrows) man had looked down at him and asked him if he was okay. Of course he wasn't okay! He had almost been killed! And of course, it was easier to feel anger than panic at the man for even asking. The man had the gut to tell him off at his reaction, and Francis was glad a whole building was dividing them because he wasn't sure if he would have been able to hold himself together if it hadn't.

At least they would never see each other again, and it was a pity Francis had to meet the other guy like that because in any other case scenario he would have definitely tried to see the other naked (bushy eyebrows, dirty mouth and all).

It seemed, however, that the whole Universe had other plans for him, and when he recognized that scowl looking at him, towering above the other employees who had been ogling him since he had made the first step in that office, Francis realized that there was no way he could get any unluckier.

Green eyes found his blue ones, disappearing immediately afterwards behind that human wall of curious employees. There was a loud, scaring thud, and the employees moved all together, dividing in two like the waters of the Nile had when Moses passed, and presented the funny picture of a man, feet up in the air, one still tangled around a chair, the rest of the body on the floor, looking at Francis from upside down.

"Mr. Kirkland!" the man, the boss of the company, with whom Francis had been talking with mere seconds before, shouted. Francis watched as the dirty blond haired man immediately sprung on his feet, kicking the chair in the process, and looked at them both with wide, green eyes and dark, red cheeks that would have made even a beetroot envious.

* * *

The horror! The horror! Arthur screamed inside his head. There was no way he would get out of this alive! Standing on the chair! What was he thinking? Fortunately he wasn't hurt and at least he wouldn't be constantly reminded of his stupidity by his aching foot…

His eyes rose to look straight into blue ones. The guy he had almost hit the day before was standing there, staring back at him and, Arthur was sure, silently mocking him for making such a fool out of himself.

"You…" Arthur opened his mouth, before he could register his own words, and the blond man immediately responded with wonder so similar to his own:

"Who would have thought…"

It was that little exchange of words that took Arthur's boss attention. Arthur was so intent to make the blond guy disappear with his constant staring that he didn't realize his boss had moved to stand between them until the older man exclaimed:

"Do you know each other?"

Both Arthur and the other man looked at Arthur's boss and raised an eyebrow in question, but before they could say something (like "Oh, no. I don't know this bastard.", "Oh, nothing much. He just almost killed me yesterday", and "I would love to keep ignoring the other's existence if you don't mind…") Arthur's boss smiled widely and added:

"Oh, good!"

And did Arthur discern a not of relief (_relief_!) in his boss' voice? He hoped that his fall had done something to his eardrums and he couldn't hear well. His boss, nevertheless, did indeed look quite happy and he looked at them both, putting his hands one on Arthur's shoulder and one on the blond man's one.

"Oh, good!" the boss repeated, "How come you know each other?" he asked, but before one of them could retort, he continued: "It doesn't matter! That makes things even easier! As you surely must know, Arthur, Francis Bonnefoy is a delegate from a company in France, one we would happily merge with if his own boss agrees, of course…" the boss said, looking at Francis with a kind smile.

"That's why I'm here…" Francis said, flashing a hot smile at Artuhr's boss. His boss looked a little flushed and at loss of words for a moment before he returned his attention back to Arthur.

"Francis is charged the delicate job to decide whether this, our, company is worth signing a contract with." Arthur's boss explained, "So I need someone who could show him around and answer all his eventual questions. I thought about giving this assignment to my secretary, but now I see he would feel more comfortable to be with someone he actually knows!" he smiled at Francis, then looked at Arthur again with a look that clearly said:

_You know we are in a difficult financial situation, Arthur, so if we wreck this we are surely going down. Mess this up and you are fired!_

Arthur gulped and then looked at Francis, who looked as disappointed as Arthur probably looked, and then nodded once.

"Great!" his boss exclaimed and patted them both on the back. Arthur and Francis smiled a little to each other (a forced, not really felt smile, one that showed more teeth than kindness) and then shook each other's hands (almost breaking each other's fingers in the process).

In that moment the aforementioned secretary (silky blond hair, red lips, sensual hips) came to talk to Arthur's boss, pressing a dossier against her busty chest. Francis scrutinized her every feature, making perfectly clear to anyone that he would have much preferred to be 'shown around' by her rather than that guy standing before him. Arthur snorted and Francis immediately looked back at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"You are just a pervert…" Arthur mouthed and crossed his arms before his chest. Francis shrugged but before he could go and introduce himself to the lady, Arthur's boss put himself between the two of them again, hiding the secretary from Francis' eyes and said:

"I have a lot of work to do now." He smiled apologetically at Francis, "Arthur, why don't you show Francis around the city? It would be the perfect opportunity for him to get to know our beloved city, our customs and the way we live! Francis?"

"Oh, it would be a fantastic experience." The man said, and Arthur snorted at how _fake _the other sounded, gaining a dirty look from the French in return.

"Arthur would be delighted to take you around!"

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word his boss added:

"Of course, I am going to pay today as a normal, working day."

Arthur didn't need to be told twice. Francis just let out a long sigh and followed him outside. It couldn't be that bad of an idea, couldn't it?

* * *

It had been a _bad_ idea. An awful idea. A terrible idea.

Arthur had _tried _to follow his boss' orders, and had _tried_ to show Francis the best features of Arthur's city, but all his smiling and pointing out the different monuments had been vain, and, frankly, a total waste of time.

Francis never agreed with him and always had something awful to say, comparing Arthur's city with his own, and bragged about his own country, rubbing in Arthur's face their supposed superiority.

"And we are much kinder people." Francis was saying, "You are so cold and-!"

"Oh, please!" Arthur exclaimed, not taking it anymore, "I've been to your oh-so-great country once and 'kind' is not an adjective I would use to describe your people! You all are really obnoxious, arrogant and you think that your language is the best in the whole world!"

"Oh, _please_!" Francis said, "Are you telling me English is superior to French? Must I remind you all the things _you _have taken from us in that aspect?"

"You are an insufferable git!"

* * *

Francis couldn't say he hated Arthur's city. It wasn't like where he lived of course. The architecture, that mist of old and new, was… _interesting_, to say the least, but Francis would have never moved to live there if he had the choice. It was expensive and a little too chaotic for his tastes.

And Francis didn't really want to talk about the weather. Unpredictable, swinging from sunny to rainy to sunny again in mere seconds, annoying and moody like the guy taking him around the city in that moment was.

Francis had _tried_ to talk civilly with the man. He had _tried_ to forget their awful first meeting, and had _tried _to have an actual conversation with him. Arthur was proud of his country, Francis could see, but he wanted to talk about his own country too, pointing out the differences and the things they had in common (which were few, according to him).

He had tried to point out what he didn't like about Arthur's city and ask him about his people's living style, but it had been vain, and, frankly, a total waste of time.

Arthur didn't like to be contradicted. He was too condescending, to stuck up to see that there were other things in this world worth the attention, and the fact English must be spoken worldwide didn't mean that everyone must be damned good at it! Arthur loved to make fun of his pronunciation, as if the shorter man had a better one himself.

("Wot?", "You are barmy!" and "Gawd Blimey!")

Then Arthur decided Francis should taste some real, British cuisine leading Francis to the conclusion that if he had managed to stomach what Arthur called food, then he could stomach _anything_.

* * *

Tolerance had its limits, though, and soon they reached a point where they couldn't take all this _diplomatic _nonsense anymore. They sat down on a bench in the middle of a park, looking at nothing, and both leaning into one hand while passersby wondered if they were trying to mimic each other to perfection.

They sighed at the same time, crossed their legs and changed position. Another sigh. They shared a glance. They snorted.

"I need a drink so bad…" Arthur said suddenly breaking the silence.

"Me too…"

"Want to go to a pub?"

"Lead the way."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur's head was aching. Actually, he was aching all over, as if he had suddenly wanted to get fit the day before after years and years of sitting in front of the television, eating potato chips while slurping down cans of coke. Nevertheless, it wasn't the pain what had woken him up, but a strange, constant hissing noise somewhere behind him. Maybe his neighbor was watering the plants, but to him it felt like someone had built an artificial waterfall overnight and was now checking out if it needed improvement.

He thought of all that before he actually remembered that his neighbor had left for a business trip and he wouldn't be home until the following Saturday. Moreover, there was no way someone could build an artificial waterfall overnight, not in the center of the city, and not without any permission whatsoever. Why would they build an artificial waterfall anyway?

Suddenly in panic, Arthur opened one eye, checked the room, realized that it was _his_ room, and let out a sigh of relief. Good. Maybe his neighbor had asked someone else to water his plants for him, the rational part of his mind told him, and, finally reassured, he moved to the side to check his alarm clock on his nightstand.

Wait.

Arthur's breath hitched when he realized, as soon as his cold feet touched, tangled in his own sheets, that he wasn't wearing his pajamas. Actually, he wasn't wearing anything at all.

The hissing noise suddenly came to a stop, and Arthur immediately recognized the sounds of someone using his shower, the steps of _someone_ moving around in the bathroom. Alfred hadn't the keys to his apartment and that meant a total stranger was in the house, using his shower, using his towels… and, oh God! What did he do last night?

Arthur covered himself with his sheets and watched flabbergasted the door to his bathroom suddenly open. His heart skipped a beat as Francis fucking Bonnefoy stepped in his room, wearing one of his most classy suits, one that had cost a lot and that he now had to set fire to as it was now probably full of frog's microbes and he didn't want to know what else. Francis looked at him, a tiny glance, shrugged and then moved to step in front of the mirror as if had been doing so all his life.

Arthur's heart started beating manically as he waiting the other to say something, a confession of sort, anything to reassure him that yesterday had ended up in nothing but…!

"Oh, you are awake?"

That's it? Arthur blinked at the other man and felt the sudden urge to grab his night-lamp and throw it at the other's head. That was _all_ he had to say?

"What are you doing here?" Arthur screeched, his own voice doubling the throbbing pain in his head. He tried to calm down, but looking down at the suit Francis was currently wearing and remembering how much money he had spent on it didn't help, on the contrary, it actually made him feel really worse. Francis suddenly noticed his stare and said:

"It's the only almost nice suit I could find." He exclaimed, then twisted his nose and added: "I would have never bought it, of course. It's really démodé."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Do you want me to be more straightforward?" Francis asked, sincerely surprised. "Fine then… your clothes royally sucks. It looks like they had been made by a-!"

"That wasn't what I meant!" Arthur blushed, felt the sudden urge to grab his own bed and throw it at the other's head, and added: "Tell me that we didn't-!"

"Well, I _tried_!" Francis suddenly whined, turning to look at Arthur and checking him up and down even if he was covering himself with his sheets. Arthur suddenly felt self-conscious, but at the same time just a little relieved at the fact Francis hadn't commented on how nice last night had been. "I tried!" Francis exclaimed again, resembling more a more to a drama queen and less and less to the businessman he had pretended to be before, "I tried to cup those nice butt cheeks you own, but you kept biting me!" he raised one of his hands, and Arthur felt proud at the evident bite-marks on the other's fingers. "And you even kicked me, spat on me, and made everything so difficult! Even in sleep! I _had_ to give up!" Francis kept whining. He looked like a kicked puppy that had been denied his favorite dog food. Arthur wasn't fooled, though.

"I hope you learnt your lesson, wanker!" Arthur spat, and Francis pouted. "But I still don't understand why you are _here_!"

"Well, it was late and I was drunk and sleepy…" Francis said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "You were so kind, leading me straight to your house. How could I say no to such an offer?"

"What happened last night?" Arthur asked again. Francis looked at himself in the mirror once more, combed his hair back, checked if he looked nice with a ponytail and then let his hair down again. After a long, excruciating moment, he turned to look at Arthur again, this time smiling like an idiot.

"I thought you were this boring, old man person, with nothing to do but solving crosswords and drinking tea all day long…" Francis said, Arthur tried not to blush, "So imagine my surprise when, yesterday, I saw you shallow glasses of whiskey one after the other…"

"Yes, _okay_! But what happened last night?" Arthur shouted, wanting Francis to get straight to the point and stop embarrassing with stories Arthur had already heard before.

"Well, if I remember correctly you started stripping, borrowed the barman's apron and started singing 'Every you and every me' by Placebo while swinging that nice butt right and left, right and-!"

Arthur's eyes turned wider and wider each word Francis said and he suddenly wished for the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. Nevertheless, the look Francis was throwing at him make his actually wish the Earth would be so kind to swallow that bastard instead, and if it managed to never spit it back up again, Arthur would be grateful.

"Oh, my God!"

"W-what?" Arthur said, his throat suddenly dry, as Francis in one quick move stepped closer to Arthur's bed and crouched down to his eye-level.

"This wasn't the first time, was it?" Francis said, looking suddenly smug. Arthur availed himself of his right not to speak. The French though saw right through him and burst out laughing, much to Arthur's dismay.

"Shut up."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie." Arthur cringed at the nickname, "You are banned from that pub anyway, so you don't need to show your face there ever again."

"How _kind_ of you…"

"I know." Francis grinned, leaning closer to Arthur's face, "If it makes you feel even better, you sing wonderfully…" he added then, but before Arthur could slap him and shout something about lack of space, the older man suddenly looked away and stared at the photo standing beside Arthur's back on the nightstand next to the alarm clock. "Oh, look at that!" Francis suddenly exclaimed, leaned closer to Arthur and took the photo in his hands, "You look like a bunny, a _petit lapin_! How cute~"

Arthur moved his head to see what Francis had been talking about and his face suddenly became ten shades of red. It was a photo of him when he was younger, probably eight years old, when he had wanted to grow his hair long and just ended like one of those bunnies with their ears hanging low. A scowling bunny, but a bunny nonetheless. His brothers had teased him for years afterwards.

"Shut up, idiot! And put that down! It's not yours!" Arthur shouted, grabbed the photo from Francis' hands and hid it under his pillow. Francis looked unfazed and just stared at Arthur with a lecherous smile on his lips.

"Will you stop that?!" Arthur exclaimed, his face burning. He wondered if he could use the photo as a murder tool, but then again he preferred not to fill his bed with glass and frog's blood. Francis just stared at him, checking him up and down, and then straightened up and said:

"Well, why are you doing still naked, _mon petit lapin_?" he said, "We will be late for work!" and with that he left the bedroom, leaving a stunned Arthur behind, who wondered how the wanker dared to pretend to be the more mature of the two when in reality he was just the most perverted one! Wait. Did he call him…?

"I'M NOT YOUR PETIT LAPIN! BASTARD!" he shouted, stood from his bed and slammed the door with force.

When he went to the kitchen later, he was surprised to see Francis waiting for him, cup of tea in his hands, reading one of Arthur's unsolved crosswords.

"All I could find in the cupboards were stacks and stacks of teabags…" Francis whined, as soon as Arthur stepped in. "Don't you ever drink coffee? You are so old fashioned… just like your clothes!"

"Suck it up and be grateful I didn't kick you outside!" Arthur exclaimed, taking one cup and pouring some tea for himself. He wasn't going to tell Francis why he hated coffee, how the mere smell made him nauseous, reminding him of an awful argument that had made _someone _he had considered special throw all his tea down the toilet, and who had filled all his cupboards with coffee just to spite him… the smell not going away for months…. They made up afterwards, forgot about their past and became what they were now. Friends. But by the time this happened, though, coffee already made him ill and melancholic.

"Well, you actually did, _mon petit lapin_." Francis said, retorting to his previous threat. "By I crawled back in."

"Gross." Arthur said, immediately forgetting that strange feeling in his chest at the mention of coffee. "Gross and, may I add, sick."

Francis laughed, put down the half empty cup of tea, and absentmindedly touched the wedding ring he wore on his ring finger. Arthur looked at it and wondered why he hadn't noticed it until now. He had never thought Francis could be married, as if someone could be such a masochist to marry that idiot.

"By the way, the answer you are desperately searching for is for is 'compatibility'. _Man_, you are so stupid!" Francis suddenly groaned, taking out a pen and scribbling down the answer on Arthur's crossword.

"_Go to hell_!"

* * *

"Did you have fun yesterday?" Arthur's boss asked, smiling widely at Francis and throwing a worried glance at Arthur. Arthur blushed a little, opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter a word, Francis widely smiled and said:

"It was a very interesting tour." Francis put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and pulled him close: "Arthur is a _really_ funny guy!"

"Funny?" Arthur asked, wanting to punch the other in the face, but decided not to risk his career and just slapped the other's hand away.

"F-funny?" Arthur's boss repeated, looking really confused for a moment. Francis wondered just how much Arthur managed to keep his late visits to the pub a secret, but he didn't dwell on it too much as it wasn't his business, anyway. Moreover, Arthur's boss didn't need to know his employee looked sexy with just an apron on.

"Well…" Arthur's boss shook his head and when he fully recovered from his first shock said: "I suppose today Arthur can show you around our office and talk to you all about our company, our rules and methods of working. You can ask all the questions you need to make your decision easier, and I'm sure that by the end of the day you will be very satisfied with all you will see."

Francis smiled and nodded, while Arthur silently cursed the fact he had to endure just another day with the frog. He sucked it up and smiled at his boss, then took Francis hand and pulled his away to show him around their company, acting as professionally as he could.

Francis asked his questions as any delegate from another company would, and Arthur answered as any employee of a very important company should. He refrained to hit Francis in the nose more than once and he kept glancing at him with the corner of his eye from time to time, taking in his features, deciding that frogs are much more beautiful creatures than this one, and just making sure Francis would not try something funny on him when he least expected it…

"Are you going to keep bothering me for long?"

"Probably for another week. My boss decided that I should work with you for a while, just to make sure merging with you is in the best interest to us."

"I'm sure a union between our companies will be great." Arthur said, talking as his boss would, and not believing a word he said.

"Is that an invitation?"

"_Gah_!"

* * *

Later Francis asked all the employees he could find about their company, and when they last expected it, he asked them about Arthur instead. Their answers were more or less the same.

"He is… well… he is… sometimes dull."

"A real gentleman, but nothing more than that."

"He is always wearing grey or black or those really old cardigans and sweaters…"

"He speaks like he is from another time period."

"He is a good man, and I can't imagine him go against our boss, even when he treats him like shit."

In a word?

"Dull."

"Sophisticated, but old fashioned."

"No style whatsoever."

"Boring."

"Stuck up."

Francis then wondered if Arthur had always been that way, or if he had changed character over time. Judging by yesterday's performance, though, Francis had to admit there was more to Arthur's character that the other let on. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, looked at his big eyebrows, his eyes as green as the grass after the rain, his thin lips, his straight nose, his delicate fingers, and listened to his voice as he talked and talked and talked…

Man. He really was dull.

* * *

When Arthur went to the supermarket later that afternoon, he decided to put inside his trolley, next to his tea, just one little packet of coffee. He probably wouldn't drink it, but he thought it wouldn't hurt having one in the cupboard just in case someone visits him.

He stared at the packet for a long time before taking it out and putting it back in its place on the shelf.


	4. Chapter 4

"I've been trying to call you for the last two days! Where have you been?", Alfred, Arthur's (only) friend said, slurping down a coke and munching on a hamburger at the same time. Arthur stared disgusted at Alfred and tried to duck any crumb that the other guy may inadvertently spit at him.

Arthur knew Alfred since their last days of college (so stereotypically _American_ in everything he did and said, blue eyes twinkling behind rectangular spectacles, and running a hand through his blond hair every now and then just to declare to the world how awesome he was) and he was quite glad he had known the other guy for so long otherwise he wouldn't have understood a word Alfred had said.

In fact, what Alfred had uttered in reality was a:

"I bu twah to chaa…", a pause to gulp down another gallon of coke, "…ya t'last twuh daaa!", a pause to bite his hamburger, "Wh're 've been?"

Which Arthur swore was not English, no matter how much the other guy claimed otherwise. Alfred stared at him, expectedly waiting for an answer, which Arthur kindly gave, if not to shut the other up, to refrain him from opening his mouth again and show Arthur just what he had been eating for the past hour.

"Vel?"

"Yesterday it was shopping day." Arthur said taking a hanky out and wiping away from his nice sweater some remains of Alfred's lunch. "And two days before I had a frog I was forced to tend to."

Alfred totally misunderstood what Arthur had wanted to say and looked excited at him. He looked up from his almost finished hamburger (the third in a row) and grinned at the older man, looking happy for reasons Arthur couldn't comprehend.

"You got a frog?" Alfred exclaimed, "A pet? Wow! May I come see it?"

"I got no pet." Arthur said, trying hard not to laugh at how let down Alfred looked right then. Alfred raised an eyebrow, finished his meal and then crossed his arms over the little white table they had been sitting in for the past hour.

It was typical of Alfred to ask Arthur to meet him at a McDonald, and even if it was indeed lunchtime, Arthur declined Alfred's offer for a hamburger, and not because he didn't like McDonalds (actually the food there was quite tasty) but because he had no hunger whatsoever. Arthur thanked the aforementioned "frog" for that, who had managed to piss him off so much that morning at work that he had lost his appetite.

Arthur couldn't understand how his boss was so sure they had been friends for a long time, and while neither of them had actually told him the truth of how they come to know each other, it was clear as crystal how much they couldn't work together even if they paid them to. The boss always looked quite stunned every time he caught them biting each other head's off, but that day he took it a step further by wondering out loud if Arthur should call Francis later in the evening to clear everything out. Now it wasn't the time. Those files had the priority over any bickering they were having right now and… really? You don't have Francis' number? How weird.

Which was why Arthur was now stuck with Francis Bonnefoy's mobile number, home number, office number and so on, memorized in his own phone. Arthur couldn't deny he would have preferred to die instead.

"So, what is it?" Alfred said, finally sounding normal and wiping grease from the corner of his mouth with his sleeves.

"How many times have I told you not to do that?" Arthur screeched, staring at the obvious stain on the other's shirt. "You are disgusting!"

"It needed washing either way." Alfred said, "Now will you tell me why you looked so pissed off? Frogs are such nice creatures! Why would-!"

Alfred stopped talking as Arthur's mobile suddenly rung and interrupted his speech. Alfred looked down to where Arthur's pocket was and then raised an eyebrow at him. Arthur received the message, sighed loudly, took out his mobile, and checked the caller from the phone's display.

"Bοllocks." Arthur swore getting paler by the second. Alfred suddenly looked concerned at him and asked:

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

Arthur gulped and, without a word, put the mobile near his ear. He hadn't expected Francis to use this new knowledge and call him so soon, neither had he expected the other to actually memorize Arthur's number. He wondered if he should give the phone to Alfred instead for a moment before pressing the answer button and saying:

"What is it?", plain, clear and simple, Arthur thought. At least he would know straight away if there had been any problem at work or if Francis was just trying to annoy him. In that case Arthur could always hang up and change number just in case it happened again.

_"I'm bored~" _

Go figure.

"How could that be my problem?"

_"Oh, come on, Arthur! I'm alone in this big city for another week! Isn't there something for me to do? You are supposed to be my friend here!"_

"Yes, of course there are a lot things for you to do!" Arthur said, ignoring the looks Alfred was giving him and focusing on the other customers surrounding them instead.

_"Like?"_

"Have you seen our most famous bridge?"

_"Not yet. Is there something interesting there?"_

"Of course. Go there and jump down. I'm sure it's going to be the ride of your life!"

_"Very funny, but I should have expected such an invitation from someone who tried to kill me with a vase of lilies."_

"I still regret missing your head."

_"Pity you don't know me enough to start missing other parts of my body."_

"How can you make everything I say sound so dirty?" Arthur exclaimed, gaining strange looks from the customers sitting nearby and from Alfred himself. Arthur looked at his friend, who raised an eyebrow at him, and blushed ten shades of red. "Bollocks. I… err…" Arthur said embarrassed but immediately got over it when he suddenly heard the other softly chuckling from the other line. Suddenly pissed off he exclaimed: "Listen, git. Get out of your hotel's bed and wait for me outside. I'm coming."

_"You want a piece of me, don't you?"_

"Just be punctual!" Arthur shouted and shut his phone with vigor. Alfred (and a dozen of other customers Arthur decided to blatantly ignore) stared at him and waited for him to say something. Arthur wondered if it was silly idea, after all, but after another look at Alfred's expectant face, he made up his mind and said:

"Do you want to meet the reason of my distress?"

"Well, duh! I need to know everything if you want me to help you!"

"Very well then." Arthur said, feeling his stomach churn at the way Alfred offered his help, and stood up. "We are going to meet the famous frog!"

* * *

"He doesn't look like a frog to me." Alfred said, cocking his head to the side like a curious dog. Francis looked straight at him, raising a fine blond eyebrow in annoyance and then smiled sarcastically at Arthur.

"Is this the way you present me to your friends?"

"Alfred, Francis. Francis, Alfred." Arthur hastily said, shooting a venomous look at the French, who nodded at Alfred as pompous as ever. Alfred grinned and shook the other's hand with vigor and then exclaimed:

"Hello! I'm Alfred! Arthur's friend!"

"Pleased to meet you, I'm… Arthur's co-worker… for the time being…" Francis said.

"Great! Now that we are done with the presentations!" Arthur exclaimed, put a hand on Alfred's shoulder and the other one on Francis' one and then grinned at them both: "Have fun you two!" and with that he literally run away, leaving them flabbergasted behind.

Alfred and Francis stared at the spot Arthur had been standing in till a second before and then moved their heads to look at each other again, blinking their stupor away.

"What a jerk…" Francis said, raising an eyebrow at Arthur's unexpected reaction.

"He must hate you a lot…" Alfred said instead and suddenly burst laughing.

"If he left you here with me, he doesn't like you either, _mon ami_." Francis reasoned.

"No, that's not possible." Alfred said, sounding self assured and not at all offended. "He must need some little time alone, I guess. So…"

"So…"

"Why don't we grab a coffee at Starbucks?" Alfred grinned, "There is one just around the corner!"

"If you insist." Francis said with a sigh and followed the hyperactive man to the aforementioned place. Francis ordered his coffee, watching amused as Alfred not only ordered coffee with a lot of whipped cream on it but two slices of cheesecake for himself as well.

They sat down, and forgetting their initial awkwardness, Alfred started talking about himself, about his job, his constant trips between America and England, and ended up talking about Arthur too. Francis took that as a clue to start talking as well and immediately took his chance and explained how he got to know the grumpy guy Alfred called 'best friend'.

"So this is how you met!" Alfred exclaimed, laughing his head off. Francis pouted, looked down at his empty cup of coffee and sighed.

"It had been traumatizing…"

"Arthur must have been devastated! That was his favorite vase, after all…"

"How kind of you to show such concern for my life!"

"Oh, come on, buddy! You are still here, aren't you! Chill out! The vase, on the other, is never going to come back."

"How romantic… what's so special about a vase anyway?" Francis exclaimed, "It's just earth ware!"

"Of course, but it was special to Arthur! He told me his mother gave it to him."

"Big deal, my mother gave me a lot of things. One of them my impeccable looks, of course."

Alfred snickered and said: "Well, for Arthur that vase was her only gift."

"You are kidding, right?"

"Nope!" he said cheerful and paused to sip some of his coffee. Francis stared at him for a long moment and then sighed:

"You seem to know Arthur well…"

"Of course!" Alfred said, as if Francis had said something totally ridiculous, "I met him when I came here as an exchange student in my last year of college and that was a _long _time ago. Plus, I used to date him so…"

Francis coffee went down the wrong way and started coughing. Alfred immediately let his coffee down and stood up to pat Francis on the back.

"You okay, pal?"

Francis nodded and coughed once more. It took him a while for him to regain his breath, but when he did he immediately realized that his heart was still beating loudly in his chest. The shock must have been too much, he reasoned, and ignoring Alfred's worried looks, he said instead:

"You dated him?"

"Yeah! For a small period of time." Alfred said, sitting down on his chair again. "We broke up really badly, and even if now we are friends once more, I don't think we will ever hook up again."

"Why? Because he was too boring?" Francis snickered, pushing away his cup of coffee as he suddenly didn't feel that thirsty anymore.

"He wasn't when I met him." Alfred said. "He was the lead singer of a punk band back in college. I happened to go to one of their gigs."

"You are kidding, right?" Francis exclaimed. "He was a punk?"

"Yep. Weird clothes and all. I know it seems odd now, but he was a real rebel back then! His brothers told me stories about him that I prefer not to repeat out loud."

"He has brothers?"

"Four." Alfred said, "Man! You don't know anything about him!"

"Of course I don't! I just met him!"

"Oh, yeah… I forgot!" and started laughing again. Francis scoffed and stared at the guy ordering another coffee in front of him. He wondered why on earth Arthur used to date this unsanitary man before, but then again if Alfred's stories were true, Arthur hadn't been the picky guy back in the day.

"When did he start getting so… tiresome? I mean, when did he start drinking tea and do all that embroidery stuff?"

"Weird, right?" Alfred said with a grin and then added: "Since forever, I suppose, but he left his piercings and the rebel side of his character on the shelf when… I don't remember exactly. It had started before we actually started dating."

"Oh, that's so." Francis said with a note of disappointment.

"Look! It started raining!" Alfred exclaimed, disappointed too but for different reasons entirely. "Fuck. I hate this country's weather!"

* * *

_"It's your fault mum and dad divorced! You shouldn't have been born! We were better off without you!"_

That was a phrase Arthur Kirkland had heard immensurable times in his life. Everybody had told him at some point or the other, so much that he ended up believing so himself. His parents had probably started fighting before he was born, but his arrival in the world had been the last straw for their marriage. His father walked out that door and never came back, and Arthur was left defending himself against five people who blamed him for everything that went wrong at home.

His mother, though, even if she too believed he was the cause for her failed marriage, told him he loved him every time she was sober enough to remember what she said afterwards. Those times were few and just once did they coincide with his birthday, his ninth birthday to be exact, where he got that vase from her.

Arthur suddenly remembered how much his constant trying to keep the family together had been futile and even laughed at and Arthur didn't want to remember how much things had gotten worse when he had that fight with his brother Patrick. He had tried to get close to his brothers and they just ended up hurting each other instead, while his mother sat down on the sofa hiding her bottle of alcohol under the pillow, becoming sometimes so sick that Arthur and his brothers had to drive her to the hospital from time to time. She would immediately get on her feet immediately after, but Arthur would only feel emptier every time he returned home.

In the end he just fucked it all and started living his life as he wanted. He had found his passion for singing and hoped one day to start a great career on it. He and his band weren't famous at all at first, but gig after gig more and more people came to hear them playing.

And then his mother got sick again and this time for good. He remembered running to the hospital with his brothers, the first and only time they spoke civilly to each other, too worried to pay attention to who was holding their hands.

"Is she's going to make it?"

"I hope so."

"I must have checked the house more last time I visited…"

"Don't worry. She always had been sneaky."

And then one by one they went to see her lying on the hospital bed…

Arthur wondered why he had started to think back to his past again, but he supposed it was because it had started raining again. Rain always made him somewhat nostalgic but he always got over it really soon. That day, on the other hand, he couldn't stop thinking about his mother.

"Maybe it's because I don't have her vase anymore…" Arthur said out loud, taking a sip of his tea and sitting down in front of the window pane to watch the rain fall down. He then smiled, suddenly thinking about Francis soaking wet somewhere in the city, and congratulated himself for being able to get away from that annoying guy for a whole afternoon. He hoped Alfred, with his dubious style and way of eating, would have freaked Francis enough to make him run away back to France. Arthur could imagine his terrified face as Alfred talked and talked with his mouth full…

Hah! Serves him right for annoying him!

Arthur then wondered if Francis had, on the other hand, totally surpassed Alfred's manners and had tried to flirt with him instead. The sudden thought wiped his victorious grin from his face in an instant before he remembered again that Francis may be married…

Once more the thought didn't make him feel any better at all.

* * *

Francis stared at the rain with a pissed off look on his face. He wondered if his hair would be ruined because of the humidity and he was sure that his brand new shoes wouldn't stand the puddles at all. He glanced at Alfred, who stared at passersby with his hands in his pockets, bored out of his mind.

Francis wondered if he should say something, just to pass the time, and then checked Alfred up and down. His eyes wondered to Alfred's butt and congratulated Arthur for picking such a gorgeous guy for Francis to spend some time with. Arthur, with his disheveled hair and those ugly eyebrows, was a sight Francis much preferred to do without. Francis smirked and suddenly scooted closer to Alfred, moving a hand to touch Alfred's shoulder.

"I'm sure Arthur likes you, after all!" Alfred exclaimed just in that moment, widely grinning down at him. The phrase took Francis totally aback and his hand stopped mid-air.

"What?"

"Well, he never wanted me to spend time with his friends before!" Alfred said, matter of fact-ly, "He looked so eager to present you to me before and now I understand he just wanted my approval, which I totally give!"

Francis made a step away from the other guy and sighed. Alfred may be gorgeous, but he sure was an idiot who couldn't read the weather even if they paid him. It wasn't Francis' type of guy at all, even if he was sure the other must have been superb in bed.

Too bad he wasn't interested in him, though.


	5. Chapter 5

When Francis Bonnefoy woke up two days before, on the sofa, suit reeking of alcohol and unsightly blond hair, he immediately recognized the living room as not his own. He didn't need to check out of the window to understand where he was and he didn't need to check if he got his clothes on to see if he got lucky that night.

On the contrary, Francis could only be proud of a huge hangover that hadn't altered his memories of the night before. His unfortunate encounter with Arthur Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland's boss' confidence that they knew each other, Arthur looking annoyed at him, Arthur's singing, Arthur's dancing with nothing but the barman's apron on were perfectly clear images inside Francis' head.

When he woke up he immediately thought those were memories he would have so much preferred to go on without, left behind like those bottles of whiskey at the bar, but, now that he looked back at it, he was glad he still had them.

Because now he could declare to the word that Arthur Kirkland wasn't just an annoying employee of one of the most important companies in the world, but an annoying singer/dancer/drinker/you name it, he got it, asshole as well. Francis felt honored he had discovered this part of Arthur's character so soon and he actually felt quite proud he was one of the few who knew (except Alfred Fucking Jones, but he didn't know that back then). Perfect blackmailing material, really, and, of course, Arthur's butt's image in his mind will surely be of great use in lonely nights.

That aforementioned morning, Francis had searched around Arthur's apartment , had discovered all his embroidery stuff, saw the unsolved crosswords, found the half empty cup of cold tea standing on the coffee table in the living room, and, of course, checked Arthur sleeping soundly in his bed, looking absolutely adorable and, would he dare say, innocent if Francis hadn't known Arthur looked damn dangerous (but sexy) when angry. Francis had been tempted to touch the guy, see his naked figure under those light sheets, but he shrugged the temptation off, decided that a shower would be much preferred instead, found in Arthur's wardrobe a suit that he could call decent (if he closed both eyes) and forgot all about it as soon as the cold water touched his skin.

Francis suddenly realized, as he started humming a song, that he was happy. He felt good, great even, as if the hangover was nothing but a collateral effect of a night he had loved every second of. Arthur annoyed the hell out of him, but he felt alive when he was with him. It was quite the masochistic thought, but Francis wasn't one who paid attentions to such details. He should have recognized the signs then, he would had eventually if he hadn't ended up meeting the guy that managed to wipe that feeling of happiness in just one single move.

Alfred Jones, Arthur's friend and ex-lover. Nice guy, over-friendly and always smiling, handsome, impressive in his own way, not the kind of man one forgot all too soon. Maybe that was what made Francis so moody when he returned back to his hotel room after spending a whole afternoon with Alfred. The thought of such a guy being Arthur's only friend made him feel weird, but when he thought it a little longer, Francis immediately decided that it wasn't _that bad_ that Alfred was Arthur's _only_ friend. If he had been much nicer and much less antisocial, Francis realized, Arthur would be surrounded by people. Then again, Arthur seemed like the guy, who even if he was antisocial and a pain in the ass, people felt attracted to all the same. Which was a point against him, Francis reasoned.

Arthur was moody, grumpy, snob, stuck-up, I-and-no-one-else, but… he got that _something_…

He had felt _that something_, Francis had to admit, and God if it wasn't irritating! He had felt the attraction, had felt the repulsion, especially when the asshole decided it would be an alright idea to abandon him with Alfred and run God knew where.

Francis decided he should repay the favor in one way or another, and his chance came as soon as he made a step inside his hotel room after spending the whole afternoon wondering how Alfred could eat so much and remain so slim.

His phone rung the moment he took off his shoes.

"Oui?"

"Hey, it's the awesome me!"

Francis snorted and went to take off his coat as the man on the other line started telling Francis the story of his life.

* * *

Arthur was glad his boss had decided today wasn't let's-annoy-Arthur day. Maybe it was because it was Friday and Friday was the day his boss was more occupied thinking about what he should do the weekend rather than wasting his time on his employees. Arthur was one lucky guy. He had arrived at the office right on time, had sat in his place in the cubicle, nodded at his co-workers good morning, checked that Francis was doing his business somewhere else, and started working on some paperwork that were due to the Monday after.

Everything had gone perfectly fine until the moment Francis decided to make his presence known and had taken advantage of his "coffee" time to go and talk to Arthur.

"What are you doing?" Francis asked, sitting down on Arthur's desk and looking down at the papers Arthur was signing.

"What does it looks like, idiot?" Arthur simply said, trying to get his cup of tea away from Francis' butt. "And get off my desk."

"I would if there was another place for me to sit." Francis reasoned, "Unless you want me to sit on your lap?"

"_Please _I'm trying to concentrate here." Arthur said, gritting his teeth and looked up at Francis: "Is there something you need? Because I'm not the only employee here and…"

"Why must everything have to do with work with you?" Francis said, pouting a little. "I just wanted to thank you for the wonderful afternoon yesterday."

Arthur put down his pen and gave Francis his full attention. Francis smiled kindly at him and made himself even more comfortable on Arthur's already small desk.

"Alfred is a wonderful guy." Francis added then, "He told me you used to date."

"If we can call that dating…" Arthur muttered turning red at Francis' words. "Well, anyway… er…" he coughed embarrassed then shot a murderous look at Francis, "… I don't care what you think, ok? We used to date. Big deal. What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing." Francis said. "I was just happy to confirm you swing that way." And before Arthur call say anything insulting he continued: "But that's not the point. I wanted to return the favor and present you my own friends."

It took a while for Arthur to assimilate the message in his mind. It took a moment to realize that…

"I'm not interested." Arthur stated, took the pen back in his hand and waved at Francis away: "Now get off my desk."

"That's not my problem, is it?" Francis said, ignoring Arthur and smiling widely at him, "My friends knew I am spending my precious time here in this awful country and decided to pay a visit to me. Aren't they great? I'm sure none of your friends would do the same with you. Oh, I'm sorry, you got only one friend…" Francis ignored Arthur's look, "Anyway! They are arriving later this evening and they wanted someone who could take them around the city. Tomorrow is Saturday and I'm sure you have nothing else to do so…"

"That's insulting!" Arthur exclaimed, holding the pen tight and tempted to stab Francis' leg with it. "What makes you think I've got no life?"

"Seriously, Arthur?"

A moment of pause.

"Just get off my desk."

"Just for a couple of hours, then we will leave you alone."

"As if I believe you…"

"You are a shrewd guy, aren't you?"

"Get off my desk otherwise I'll stab you."

"You are mean, _mon petit lapin_."

"Don't call me that."

"Anyway, _if…_" Francis said, marking the word with a wink, "…you don't have anything to do tomorrow, I'm going to pick you up at your apartment. Let's say after your afternoon tea?"

"I hate you."

"I'm glad." Francis said and with a elegant move stood up from Arthur's desk and made a bee line to Arthur's boss' office. Arthur watched him go, narrowed his eyes at the other's retreating back and then groaned.

Arthur could pretend not to be at home the day after. Arthur could pretend to really have something he needed to do, maybe he could say he had to visit his brother (ha!), his father (double ha!) or that he had an appointment with his boyfriend (no, no, just no), his girlfriend then (right, Francis would so believe that, not after what Alfred may have told him… wait a minute. What if Alfred spilled Arthur's family matters to Francis? Then telling him he wanted to visit his brother and father would be an obvious lie… damn it!) or maybe he could phone Alfred and ask him to visit him Saturday so Arthur could politely ignore Francis and all his attempts to ruin his weekend.

Arthur smiled and as soon as he got home, picked his phone and dialed Alfred's cell number.

"I'm sorry, buddy! Tomorrow I'm busy, I have some matters to attend to before I leave for America again Monday…" Alfred explained as soon as Arthur told him his problem. Arthur sighed and opened his mouth to apologize for the trouble when Alfred continued: "… and don't ask me to come visit you today either!" Alfred exclaimed before Arthur could say something.

"What?" Arthur raised his eyebrow and stared at the phone as Alfred started excusing himself laughing nervously.

"Yeah! Well! Haha! I'm busy today too…" Alfred said, with that tone of voice that Arthur knew the other guy used when he was blatantly lying. "…sorry, buddy! My cell is ringing, I need to go!" and hung up.

Arthur stared at the phone and wondered how much of an idiot Alfred could be. He was talking on the phone with Arthur, how could his phone being ringing somewhere else? He didn't even know how to make up excuses, the idiot! Then again… why was Alfred making up excuses in the first place? Was he hiding something? Oh, God! He was in trouble, wasn't it?

Arthur immediately took his mobile again in his hands and hastily dialed another number.

* * *

"I don't understand why we should wear sunglasses…" Arthur whispered as Francis checked himself out in a shop window. Francis shot him a look from up his own sunglasses and wiped his elegant black suit clean from invisible dust.

"We must be classy, mon petit lapin." Francis said, matter of fact-ly. "Look! You are gorgeous!"

Arthur pouted and looked down at his identical black suit and then checked himself out from the corner of his eye in the shop window. Well, he did look good like that after all…

"Pity your face ruins the whole image…" Francis added with a frown. Arthur's right eye twitched and, without a second thought, punched Francis hard in the stomach. Francis kneeled down from the pain and shot a murderous look up at Arthur.

"You want my help or not?!" he shouted hugging his aching stomach with both hands. Arthur suddenly looked at his right and prodded Francis to kneel much lower.

"There he is! Shut it up!" Arthur said in a whisper and Francis looked over to where Arthur was pointing at. There was Alfred exiting from a building and waving goodbye at a guy behind him. Francis looked at him, noticed that Alfred didn't look any different from the day before and that Arthur's long rambling that Alfred may be in serious danger had been just an excuse to take Francis out. Francis smiled and looked at Arthur ready to say something extremely witty but noticed with disappointed that Arthur wasn't looking at him at all.

"Do you think he is into drugs?" Arthur asked, honestly concerned. Francis rolled his eyes and followed Arthur to wherever Alfred was going in that moment.

"He looks perfectly fine to me." Francis said, crouching down behind a bush when Alfred abruptly turned around to where they were standing. "Seriously, Arthur. If he was into trouble, wouldn't he tell you?"

"No, because he thinks he can do anything on his own." Arthur said then put a hand on Francis' mouth. "Shut it, will you? He might hear us!"

"I doubt it!" Francis exclaimed, slapping Arthur's hand away. Alfred turned to look at where they were standing once more and Arthur suddenly pressed himself much closer to Francis.

"Did he notice us?" he asked then let out of relief when Alfred turned around again and made some steps to a hot-dog stand.

"Calm down, will you!" Francis exclaimed. "Dear Alfred is okay. He hides nothing. Why are you so concerned?"

Arthur scowled and narrowed his eyes at Francis, who stared at Arthur right back.

"When I talked to him _he looked_ like he was hiding something, okay?" Arthur exclaimed, pissed off.

"That doesn't mean he is." Francis said, "Why are you so concerned?" then he suddenly grinned, "Are you just scared he is hiding a secret relationship from you? Have you still a crush on him?"

"NO!" Arthur screeched turning red and Francis put his hand on Arthur's mouth. Alfred had bought a hot-dog and was suddenly looking very interested towards the spot they were hiding in. Arthur looked at him, his heart beating fast, but just in that moment someone called Alfred's name and the American turned his attention somewhere else.

Arthur watched as a young looking guy with brown hair and a nervous smile approached Alfred. He opened his mouth to speak before he realized that Francis' hand was still on his mouth. Arthur slapped the other hand away and said:

"That's Toris…" as if that explained everything. Francis shrugged, not really caring, and watched as Alfred and Toris sat down on a bench and started talking.

"Is he Alfred's boyfriend?"

"No." Arthur explained, "They used to be friends, but I thought they weren't in contact anymore."

"Then why do they look at ease together?"

Arthur opened his mouth to say something but just in that moment a raindrop fell on his forehead and they both stopped watching Alfred and looked up at the sky instead.

"Shit." Arthur said as the rain suddenly became thicker. Alfred and Toris looked up at the sky as well and suddenly walked away to a cafeteria across the street. Francis cursed Arthur's homeland's weather, took the other's hand and dragged him away under the safety of a bus stop.

"Wait! I need to-!" Arthur shouted but Francis' hold was firm and he was dragged away without much of a problem.

"Damn rain." Francis shouted. "I hate it!" he took of his sunglasses and dried then on his shirt. Arthur took his sunglasses off too and looked at the rain falling down before them. "My hair is a mess thanks to you!" Francis exclaimed, cursing half in French half in English.

"Man up!" Arthur shouted, "It's just water!"

Francis cursed again and Arthur scowled at him.

"If you weren't such a sissy, I would have discovered what Alfred was hiding from me!"

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Francis exclaimed, "He just went out with an old acquaintance of his. Unless I'm right and you are indeed jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" Arthur exclaimed but looking serious too, "Alfred may very well date whoever he wants. I don't care. I just…!" Arthur sighed, "I just don't want to see him hurt."

"He was _fine_." Francis said when Arthur looked suddenly sad. "Maybe he is just trying to work things out again with that guy and didn't want to tell you because he knew you would interfere. Or maybe he is organizing a party for you… what the hell should I know!"

Arthur seemed to perk up at that and looked at Francis surprised.

"My birthday is in two days!"

Francis just snorted in answer.

"Why do you look so surprised?"

"I didn't think he would remember…" Arthur said and then suddenly turned serious again. "Fuck it. That's surely not it."

"He seems the type that forgets." Francis agreed and took of his drenched coat.

"He is an idiot." Arthur said and gave his sunglasses to Francis. "I don't need them anymore."

Francis blinked at him in surprise but then smiled and pushed them back in Arthur's hands.

"Keep them." Francis said, "And the suit too." And then moved closer to where Arthur stood. Arthur looked warily at him as Francis grinned at him really close to the other's face. "Consider it my birthday present for you…" Francis explained again with a shrug. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other but didn't move away.

"And anyway…" Francis said, suddenly feeling Arthur's warmth on his skin, "I'm sure the smell won't get off for years!"

"Like your smell is any better. You are standing too close." Arthur retorted, twisting his lips in disgust. Francis grinned at him, looked straight into Arthur's eyes and then moved just a little closer. Arthur stared at him as if waiting for the other to do something, even his eyes dropped imperceptibly on the other's lips, but then without a warning Arthur moved a little away and stepped on the other's foot.

Francis jumped away with loud cry and looked at Arthur with a murderous look.

"What did you do that for?"

"I told you you were standing too close!" Arthur shouted, turning red and crossing his arms over his chest in defense. Francis scowled and looked down at his now dirty shoe, wondering if Arthur had broken any finger. He moved his foot, but nothing seemed wrong.

"You are an unromantic bastard." Francis said, scowling.

"Unromantic?" Arthur shouted, "You looked like you wanted to hump me there! And just for the record, I'm not interested!"

"Keep telling yourself that." Francis said, grinning.

"Pervert!" Arthur scowled and looked away. Francis smiled at himself and cleaned his shoe with a handkerchief, wondering for a moment if he should tell Arthur that his lips had parted slightly when Francis had moved closer to him.

"And anyway… you are…!" Arthur suddenly said, gaining Francis' full attention once more. Francis looked at him, noticed Arthur's red cheeks and raised an eyebrow in question. "Never-fucking-mind." Arthur said and walked away under the rain, holding the sunglasses tightly in his grip.

* * *

When Francis returned to his hotel later, when the rain had finally stopped, he suddenly remembered a girl smiling up at him, long blond hair and bright kind eyes, stretching her hand to him under an apple tree.

A long time had passed from that day and Francis suddenly realized that he had been indeed happy back then. The same kind of happy he felt now as he put his sunglasses on his bedside table.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur Kirkland didn't need friends. He got a job in this world of unemployment and he got a friend in this world of lies. He didn't need his family to support him and he especially didn't need frogs to tell him how to pass his Saturday. If Arthur had to change something about himself it would be nothing at all. He knew that.

(What Arthur Kirkland didn't know, but maybe sometimes suspected, was that he was really good at lying to himself.)

So he felt a punch in the stomach when the doorbell to his apartment suddenly rang at exactly five o'clock in the afternoon. (And Francis had indeed said after his afternoon tea, but how the hell did he know Arthur liked to drink a cup at four?). Arthur wondered if he should pretend not to be at home and then wished he could be just a little less of a gentleman and much more of a time-traveler so he could go back to that faithful morning and point that vase straight on Francis' head.

He would do a clean job that time. An inch to the right and Francis would be gone forever in an instant. Pity time-travelers didn't exist (yet, as Alfred would say) and pity Arthur didn't feel like going to jail for a stupid frog and his friends (unless he was damn good at hiding, which he wasn't if he had to tell by that time he masked himself up and Alfred managed to find him all the same).

In the meantime the doorbell rang over and over and over and over again.

"Arthur!" Arthur suddenly heard Francis' annoying voice, "I know you are there! Open up!"

"Yes, Arthur!" another voice Arthur didn't recognize added, "Francis had told us a lot of things about your awesome butto-!"

Arthur opened the door in an instant. He heard laughter (Kesese? What kind of laugh is that?) and continuous whispering. Arthur felt sweat running down his temple as he watched the lift's light edging closer to his floor. He heard Francis' voice and Arthur immediately decided to act, grabbed his money and apartment keys and closed the door behind him. Better not let those crazy guys ruin his apartment, he reasoned.

The elevator's door opened and then Francis was followed by a strange albino guy and a grinning madman with brown hair and green eyes.

"Oh, you are ready?" Francis said and Arthur nodded, he nodded just to do something, just to gain time and think of a way out. He found none. "Well, in that case…" Francis grinned and motioned to his two friends behind him.

"I'm Gilbert!" the albino exclaimed, grabbing Arthur's hand and pulling him inside the elevator as Francis pushed the button to return back to the ground floor. The doors closed again and Arthur felt himself being pressed up against three pshycos with no way out and a death statement hanging over his head.

"I'm Antonio, by the way." The tanner of the three said, grabbing Arthur's hand and shook it with vigor. Arthur nodded and made a step closer to the door. "I'm Francis childhood friend!" the other continued all smiles and not letting go of Arthur's hand. "We knew each other since we were little, you know? And I'm glad he found a new friend here in this rainy country!"

Two people snorted at the same time and Arthur and Francis shot a disbelieving look at Antonio. The latter didn't understand the awkwardness that such a statement had brought upon the two and just opened the door to get outside.

"Arthur here is not interested in the least in your childhood stories!" Gilbert exclaimed then, putting a hand around Arthur's shoulders and prodding him outside. "As I told you, I'm Gilbert! I'm sure you won't forget because I'm that kind of awesome guy that no one forgets that easily!" he grinned, Arthur contained his punch for later.

"Yeah, right, Mr. Awesomeness." Francis said then, snorting and suddenly pulling Arthur away from the other's hold. Arthur wondered if he should react now or leave it for later, looking up at the sky and wondering if he would see another day. In the meantime Francis was still talking: "If you were as awesome as you claim to be, Eliza would have married you eons ago now!"

"Hmph!" Gilbert scoffed and then grinned, "Eliza so wants to marry me!" he started bragging, "But unfortunately for her I am not marriage material as I-!"

"That's true." Antonio suddenly interrupted, "You are not marriage material at all!" he smiled, "If you were to get married, Elizabeta would go to the mental asylum after only one week of spending her precious time with you!"

"Are you implying I would be a lousy husband?" Gilbert exclaimed. Antonio shrugged.

"He is not implying, he is telling so in your face." Arthur suddenly felt himself saying, regretting opening his mouth a moment later when Gilbert suddenly turned his red eyes at him.

"One thing I'm not is lousy!" Gilbert defended himself, "In everything I do I'm the greatest-!"

"You are so full of yourself." Francis said then, snickering.

"I think I am marriage material!" Antonio said then, completely out of the blue, and then smiled at Arthur, "If Lovino wanted, I would _so_ marry him!" he continued, then took off his cell and literally shoved a photo Antonio had on the phone's display in Arthur's face. "That's Lovino, my soon to be boyfriend! If he only stopped being so in denial and admitted he loves me."

Arthur tried to push him away and managed to see the photo that was being shown to him. He managed to see a young man with brown hair, strange hair curl and pouty lips, before Antonio suddenly put his phone back in his pocket and grinned:

"He is really cute, isn't he?" Antonio asked Arthur then.

"Isn't he a little too young?" Arthur felt like saying, "I mean… you look quite old for him."

"But he is cute, isn't he?" Antonio continued, getting closer to Arthur and smiling in a way the British didn't like at all.

"Francis…" Arthur suddenly said, making a step closer to the French.

"Don't worry. It's just Antonio's way of making new friends." Francis said but moved closer to Arthur nevertheless.

"I don't know how you are still alive, Antonio!" Gilbert suddenly exclaimed, gaining Antonio's attention, "Lovino is such a jerk! He hits and curses all the time! His brother, on the other hand, is much nicer and cuter!"

"Lovino shows his affections in a weird way…" Antonio said, suddenly not looking that self-assured anymore. Gilbert burst out laughing and the two of them started talking about something Arthur really couldn't comprehend.

Francis and Arthur followed closely behind. Arthur didn't really know where they were heading to but feeling it should be better not to know, turned to Francis instead:

"This… Lovino, right? Is he a high school student?" Arthur said, suddenly concerned and feeling sympathy for Lovino for knowing Antonio and his friends. Francis looked surprised at first but then laughed and said:

"He is just two years younger than Antonio." Francis explained, "But he looks quite young, yeah. I'm sure he took after his grandpa, who looks forty even if he long passed his sixty years of age." Francis then sighed and added: "Some people are so lucky!" then he grabbed his face and said: "I'm sure I'll throw a fit when I'll see my first wrinkle!"

"Hmph…" Arthur scoffed, "You are so narcissistic. You and your friends form quite the trio…"

"Well, thank you."

"That wasn't meant to be a compliment, git!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Hey, Arthur guy!" Gilbert suddenly exclaimed putting a hand around the other's shoulder again. "Do you know where we could-!" he suddenly stopped and stared at Arthur's face for a long time. Arthur wondered what was wrong and watched in confusion as Gilbert suddenly looked at Francis' again. "You were right! His eyebrows are _huge_!"

Arthur's said eyebrow twitched.

"Do you think he has big eyebrows because he has something less big somewhere else?" Antonio suddenly said, looking at Arthur with wonder. Arthur felt suddenly in the mood for a fight.

"Oh, we just have to check then, don't we?" Francis grinned putting his arm around Arthur's waist.

"That's it!" Arthur shouted and punched both Francis and Gilbert away. "Don't you ever touch me again, you bloody idiots!" he exclaimed. "Otherwise I'll beat you to a pulp!"

"He sure is strong…" Gilbert whispered kneeling down from the pain.

"See? I told you…" Francis whispered back, holding his stomach. Arthur snorted at them and then shot a murderous look at Antonio, who just smiled back at him.

"Don't mind them, Arthur, they just like to tease you!" Antonio said, laughing as if he himself hadn't implied anything about Arthur's sizes. Arthur stared disbelieving at him, then shook his head and walked away. The infamous trio followed closely behind starting to chitchat as if nothing of importance had happened.

What Arthur immediately understood was that he liked neither Gilbert nor Antonio. Gilbert was worse than Francis when he talked about himself, which he did half of the time, the other half commenting about how a certain Elizabeta Arthur didn't know (yet) couldn't take her eyes off him and was in constant denial about her undying love for him (and not for that stupid Austrian).

"She hit you with a frying pan once too many times." Francis had said.

Arthur didn't know if to like this Elizabeta either. On one hand, he wanted to congratulate her for inferring physical damage to one of the most obnoxious guys on Earth. On the other hand, he wondered if Elizabeta used the frying pan on anyone without distinctions, making her a really dangerous woman.

"Roderich has no chance with her!" Gilbert exclaimed, "Even if he wasn't in love with his stupid violin and was indeed competing with me for Elizabeta's heart, he wouldn't stand a chance against me!"

Arthur wondered if Gilbert was as good as lying to himself as Arthur was.

"He is not competing with you because he already has it." Antonio said.

Antonio was too happy-go-lucky and laidback for Arthur's tastes. He seemed to have a strange obsession for the Vargas brothers, the older one being the guy Arthur had seen a photo of. Antonio looked like he couldn't make up his mind between the two of them, saying that Lovino was cute a moment and then wondering if Feliciano was as cuddly as Ludwig said he was the next.

Arthur didn't know who Lovino, Feliciano, Ludwig, Roderich and Elizabeta were, but he did sympathize with them. They must have the courage of a lion if they could put up with the three of them every day.

"Ludwig is my brother." Gilbert explained. "He is awesome."

Arthur suddenly had the mental picture of a younger Gilbert gulping down gallons of beer. Suddenly he didn't like Ludwig either.

So all in all there were three people less in the world Arthur surely didn't like:

Francis, who was a nympho, a pervert, and liked to touch Arthur when he least expected it.

Gilbert ,who was a self-obsessed maniac, too full of himself and too proud to be considered normal.

Antonio, who was… well. Arthur didn't know what Antonio was. He would have said he was a pedo at first, but what Arthur didn't really like about the Spanish guy was that he couldn't read the other's mind at all. He smiled too much, had a strange obsession for turtles and ate tomatoes for breakfast. Arthur knew they weren't going to be friends.

Arthur was glad that he won't meet them ever again. Francis too would be just a memory in less than a week, as soon as he signed a contract with Arthur's company and returned back to France once and for all. Arthur couldn't wait.

In that moment, as Gilbert and Antonio started singing together a strange song full of la-la-las and no words, Arthur was suddenly reminded of the wedding ring on Francis' finger. He wondered who of their right mind would marry a weirdo like Francis and looked at the blond sitting on his right, curious.

The bar they went to was full with people and, while Arthur was deep in his thoughts, half of the customers joined Gilbert and Antonio's strange song, gulping beer and giggling hysterically. Francis was the only one wasn't drinking and for once Arthur's bottle of beer was still half full.

"How come you don't drink?" Francis asked watching amused his friends making a fool of themselves.

"I need to have a clean mind to keep an eye on you." Arthur said, "I don't want to find pictures of me naked on the web."

"What a wonderful idea!" Francis smiled, "I will surely do it next time!"

"There will be no next time, wanker." Arthur stated and gulped down some more beer.

"Oh, I'm hurt, mon petit lapin." Francis said, pouting, "You want me out of your life so badly?"

"Don't call me that." Arthur exclaimed, "And yeah, I do."

Francis just smiled and leaned on his hand. Arthur caught a glimpse of that wedding ring and feeling his heart suddenly racing he said:

"So who is the crazy girl who walked the aisle with you, anyway?" Arthur exclaimed suddenly feeling his cheeks heat up. Francis looked away from his friends and raised an eyebrow at Arthur in confusion. Arthur gulped, realized how much of a stupid question his was and swallowed another gulp of beer.

"I'm not married." Francis said, honestly confused.

"Oh." Arthur was shocked, "But you… well… that…" and pointed at the wedding ring with the bottle of beer. Francis blinked and looked down at his hand. There was a moment of awkward silence and then Francis' eyes suddenly softened.

"Oh, this…" Francis touched his ring and then smiled at Arthur. "This was a long time ago."

"You are divorced?" Arthur asked stupidly again, then he decided to add, just to cover his embarrassment: "That's no surprise, really."

"I'm not divorced either." Francis said, snorting, "I was married to a young woman seven years ago. She died in a fire." He continued, looking absentmindedly at his ring. Arthur suddenly felt awful and he looked down at his fingers, not really knowing what to do.

"I'm… I'm… well…"

"It's okay." Francis said, "Glad to see you have a human heart." Arthur shot him a look, "We were both really young and I was head over heels for her. It was that kind of love they describe in books, pure and fantastic and real…"

"You have quite the romantic view of love." Arthur said, "Utopian I'll say."

"I knew you weren't romantic at all, Arthur dear." Francis stated, "You can't see true love even if they shoved it on your face."

"True love doesn't exist." Arthur retorted. "All that romantic stuff you go on and on about is just crap. Love hurts. That's all. You fall in love and then out of it. Nothing is forever."

"Oh, but true love doesn't need to be forever, but it do exists. Not managing to go on five minutes without them, kiss them again and again and feeling like it's for the first time, wanting to make love to them over and over and never let go… isn't that romantic?"

"No, that's lust, not love." Arthur snorted, "Which shows how much of a pervert you really are."

"Said the guy who stripped down and borrowed the barman's apron." Francis said, "Really, Arthur, sometimes I think you are the pervert here. I'm just a passionate guy."

"I'm sorry she died, really." Arthur said, "But, trust me, one day she too would have fallen out of love with you, found another and let you go. I don't think true love doesn't need to be forever. To be true it needs to last, but considering nothing is forever, it means true love doesn't exist either."

"Your way of thinking astounds me." Francis said. "Have you been hurt that much?"

"I… I…" Arthur looked at him then scowled, "Don't mind what I say. I may have drunk a little too much after all."

"I don't think so, my dear." Francis said.

"Could you bloody stop referring to me as 'dear' or whatever sappy nonsense you may come up with from now on?"

"You are really unromantic and antisocial." Francis sighed, "But, back to our previous conversation, I think you don't believe in true love because you never experienced it."

"I did love Alfred." Arthur blurted suddenly out and then looked away.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean he was the one."

"The One." Arthur snorted. "Here goes another crappy concept."

"I think it's true. I'm sure there is someone in this world that is our perfect match that can trigger than something inside us, that something I like to call 'true love'."

"Bullshit." Arthur said, "We are too many. How can someone find the bloody one in this world? I think it's quite impossible."

"Maybe we don't need to look that far."

"You know what?" Arthur said, standing up and leaving his half drank beer on the counter, "I'm sick with this crap and your friends have given me a headache." He added pointing to the still singing men somewhere on their right, "I'm going home."

"I'm glad because I couldn't stand your pitiful view of the world either." Francis said, grabbing Arthur's beer and drinking the last gulp of it. "Bye, bye."

"Bye, wanker." Arthur said and without another look left the scene. Francis watched him go, then laughed to himself and kept watching his two friends get wasted.


	7. Chapter 7

23 April.

Twenty-seven years before Arthur's parents found a motive to divorce. Said motive couldn't say anything about it and regardless of what he said everyone acted like he was the culprit of a family gone bad.

Eighteen years before Arthur received his first birthday gift. It was nothing more than a vase, earth ware, something that Arthur didn't know what to do with, if it should be better to throw it away or keep it to hit his brothers' head in case on emergency. In the end he did neither and put it away with all the other memorabilia he stored.

"Happy birthday, sweetie!" his mother had told him, smiling brightly with eyes so similar to his that it made Arthur's heart ache. Arthur took the vase, studied the strange motive on the earth ware and then just smiled just to make his mother happy.

"I know it's not much." She said patting him on the head. Arthur had shook his head, thanked her, put the vase away where his mother could see it. "I hope one day you'll find someone who will love you because you are you." His mother added. "I hope one day you'll love someone who is worth it, who can understand you and who can wipe the hurt away."

Arthur didn't understand a word she said, just thanked her again for the gift and started playing with his stuffed unicorn.

(But now that he thought about it, was his mother wish imprinted in the vase and freed itself when the vase broke? Did his mother believe everything she told him? Did his mother love him after all?)

That Sunday morning (23 April) Arthur suddenly didn't have the mood for a cup of tea and even threw his unsolved crosswords away in the trash. He drunk milk and ate some cookies, watched absentmindedly the news on the television and even decided to continue some embroidery he left in the middle more than a week before. His morning was unusually peaceful, his mind for once was thinking of nothing more than what he was doing in that moment.

He felt so in peace with himself that, for once, even if he wasn't expecting someone, he wasn't startled when the doorbell to his apartment rang. Arthur checked the clock hanging on the wall, saw it was already noon, stood up and went to answer the door.

"Happy birthday, Artie!"

Artie. He had to hear that name since ages. Who called him that? (Who is Arthur Kirkland who was born twenty-seven years before and whose first gift was something made of earth ware anyway?)

"It's me, Alfred!"

As soon as Arthur opened the door, Alfred barged inside and shoved something in Arthur's hands.

"Hi!" Alfred said, smiling widely and giving him his birthday present. Arthur was shocked to see the box in his hands and even more shocked when another one was added to the pile. Arthur looked up to where Alfred was and finally noticed the other guy standing shyly behind him.

"Happy birthday, Arthur!" the guy said and Arthur finally recognized Matthew, Alfred's brother and twin.

"Thank you!" Arthur said, trying to hide the fact he was moved. Alfred grinned and made himself at home in the living room, Matthew even leaned down to kiss him twice on the cheeks and smiled kindly at him.

"Come on! Don't stand there like an old man and open it!" Alfred shouted from the other room.

"Shut the fuck up, idiot!" Arthur shouted, finally regaining composure and sitting down on the sofa to open the gifts. He opened Matthew's first:

"I hope you like it." Matthew said with a shy smile. Arthur took the really nice pullover and thanked him. Matthew always knew what he liked, so in contrast with Alfred who always ended up buying something he would have wanted rather than something Arthur would have bought. Indeed, when Arthur opened Alfred's gift, he couldn't keep from snorting at the hamburger-shaped money box.

"Cool, isn't it?" Alfred exclaimed putting a hand around Arthur's shoulders and grinning too close to Arthur's face. Arthur and Matthew shared a knowing look but Arthur thanked Alfred nonetheless.

"By the way, I managed to reserve a table for us three in that restaurant you love so much! Man it was difficult! But thank God I know Toris! You remember Toris, right? He works there now. His boss is a bitch but he managed to reserve a table for us anyway! He is a great guy even if he doesn't talk much! He is too shy…"

Arthur blinked at Alfred's rant, shocked that Francis had been right for once, and then looked at Matthew for confirmation.

More often than not Alfred didn't remember Arthur's birthday. Maybe it was because he rarely was in Arthur's homeland in April, but when he did Alfred made everything possible to look like a hero in Arthur's eyes and make him pass an enjoyable birthday. For twenty-seven years Arthur had wanted nothing less than pass that awful day at home, drinking or sitting on the couch watching television, but that particular 23 April Arthur was glad Alfred and his brother were there.

He didn't put any resistance when Alfred pulled him up from his seat and told him to put some nice clothes on so they could go finally eat. Arthur went to his favorite restaurant, which was uncharacteristically full that day, and even had a great time (even if Alfred was the one that did all the talking).

When he returned back to his apartment later in the afternoon Arthur was surprised to see a bag waiting for him before his apartment's door. He knelt down, opened it and saw something he thought he would never see again.

Arthur picked up the old suit Francis had borrowed without his consent some days before, when they both passed out in Arthur's apartment after that long, exhausting day of visiting the city because Arthur's boss had decided it would be an all right idea to do so. The suit was clean and on top of it Francis had put a rose with a little message on it.

"A rose for a broken vase of lilies. Thanks for the suit, mon petit lapin." It wrote, "But I have more decent ones in my wardrobe in France. Happy birthday. Kisses, Francis."

Arthur burst out laughing and took the suit out of the bag. He inspected it for any damage and then made to put it back in his wardrobe. It was in that moment that something shiny caught his eyes. Arthur stopped in his tracks and checked the bag again and saw with surprise that on the bottom of the bag was Francis' wedding ring.

Arthur picked it up with shaky fingers and inspected it closely recognizing it as Francis' ring. He wondered why it was there, if Francis had dropped it on purpose or not and why would he do such a thing in the first place. The ring shone under the light and Arthur felt mesmerized by it, tried to see if there was anything written on the inside and saw Francis' name craved in the gold.

"I should give it back tomorrow." He decided then. He made to put it on the coffee table as a reminder but in the end opened one his drawers and dropped it inside it. He didn't know why but he didn't feel like giving it back.

"And anyway, serves him right for teasing me all this time." Arthur told himself, then took the rose, felt the petals under his fingers and searched for a flowerpot to put it in. Even if it was Francis' strange gift, Arthur couldn't see a reason to throw away such a beautiful flower…

The next day, when Arthur went to work and saw Francis talking with his boss and his secretary, he suddenly felt his heart speed up. He tried to calm himself down, wondered if it was because he felt guilty for hiding Francis ring away, and then blushed when Francis caught him staring.

He scoffed and without a word made his way to his cubicle, ignoring the fact Francis had smiled back at him. Not once Arthur thought about how handsome Francis looked that morning or the fact that Francis had passed by his apartment the day before. Arthur's heart wasn't beating fast in his chest. Not once Arthur stopped signing paperwork and looked at Francis with half lidded eyes.

"You look deep in thought." Francis told him once, "Didn't get enough sleep yesterday night?" he slurred, winking at Arthur in a way it did not made Arthur feel weird in the stomach.

"Blimey, Francis!" Arthur exclaimed instead, "Don't you see I'm trying to work?"

"Oh, excuse me." Francis said, smiling again and Arthur was perfectly aware that Francis didn't mean it. They looked at each other for a long silent moment, then Arthur's eyes dropped down to where Francis' hand was, noticed the lack of ring, felt his breath hitch, felt perfectly aware that Francis had dropped that ring on purpose inside that bag.

"Are you free this afternoon?" Francis suddenly asked, totally out of the blue, pushing a blond wisp away from his face.

"I need to drive Alfred to the airport…" Arthur blurted out.

Arthur didn't want to admit it but he felt alive, as if the day before he had been born again, as if his twenty-seven years of living were nothing more than a test to that moment of happiness he (didn't) feel when Francis was looking at him with those blue eyes that made the world gain a meaning again.

"… but after that I'm free…" Arthur heard himself say.

And his heart didn't start racing when Francis smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

They must have been sixteen or seventeen when they first met each other. She was beautiful, carefree, honest and passionate in everything she did. She hated dresses, she didn't swear and she believed in the afterlife.

Francis fell in love with her almost immediately, since her first step inside the classroom, when his eyes met hers, craving in his memory with just one look her short blond hair and kind smile. Francis loved to love but the love he felt for her had been unprecedented. Nothing had ever felt that pure before.

(Even if he sometimes wondered if she had loved him more than he had loved her.)

She gave him life. She gave him her heart and Francis couldn't say no, as soon as they ended high school and started college, to the idea of marrying her. They were twenty when they both walked down that aisle, they were twenty two when she died. Francis had buried the ring with her name craved on it with her and had kept for himself the one on which was written his own, the one she used to wear on her wedding finger.

Francis didn't know why that morning he had decided to finally take it off. He supposed she wouldn't have minded, he supposed that she was somewhere, maybe in the Sky where people so liked Heaven to be, watching down on him and congratulating him for moving on.

(And who said she hadn't been the one to pull him away from that falling vase and told him to look up. Told him: "Your life is just too empty. Loving to love is like not loving at all. Now it's your turn to learn.")

* * *

"Incredible!" the shout was indeed one of an incredulous man and Arthur shot a look at said man with anger.

"You don't know your _own city_!" Francis exclaimed from the back seat, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing a little too melodramatically for Arthur's taste. Arthur shot him a murderous look again, his anger boiling to incredible degrees, and was tempted to leave the wheel and grab Francis' throat instead. "The guy _here_ is going to miss the plane if you keep being such a jerk!" Francis added, putting a hand on Alfred's shoulder sitting before him. "Just ask for directions!"

"Guys, it's really okay. You don't need to-!" Matthew said from his spot next to Francis but everybody ignored him when Arthur suddenly pushed down on the acceleration and shouted:

"I know bloody well my city!" Arthur exclaimed, "I should just have turned right two streetlights before rather than one. I don't need to ask for directions!"

"You are so funny, Arthur!" Alfred piped in, "You drove me to the airport so many times! How come you suddenly forgot how to get there? It's ridiculous!" he exclaimed and started laughing. Arthur turned his anger to him:

"You know what's ridiculous?" Arthur shouted, "Your laugh!"

Alfred just laughed even harder.

"Guys, there is a sign that says the airport…." Matthew tried again.

"Oh, come on, Artie!" Alfred said, grinning, "Are you in love or something? You seem totally elsewhere! Have you been abducted by aliens?"

"W-w-what?" Arthur shouted, pressing on the brakes and making the car come an abrupt stop.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing!" a guy shouted passing Arthur's car with his red one. Arthur looked apologetically at him and started the car again.

"See what you are making me _do_?" Arthur shouted, "I can't take it anymore! You are both so, so… childish!"

"Arthur, you should have turned right…" Matthew said, leaning closer to Arthur's ear but he was ignored again.

"_Childish_?" Francis exclaimed, "He may be!" he pointed at Alfred who retorted with a loud 'Hey!' and then added: "But I assure you I'm nothing but… childish!" he repeated the adjective with distaste.

"Sod off, git!" Arthur said, "I'm not in the mood."

"You are so grumpy, Arthur!" Alfred said again, "Are you sure there is nothing troubling you? You are leaking tension-!"

"Stop saying idiocies for a moment!" Arthur cut him, "I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Oh, touchy subject, is it?" Francis leered. Arthur's lips narrowed in a thin line.

"It's certainly is not!" Arthur spat, "Now… I really should have turned right before…"

"It's what I've been trying to tell you!" Matthew shouted. Alfred, Arthur and Francis suddenly all looked at him. Matthew felt the stares and groaned.

"Did you say something, bro?" Alfred asked all smiles and looking absolutely naïve. Matthew sighed, massaged his temples and said:

"No, nothing."

"You know, you look much more intelligent and handsome that your brother…" Francis suddenly said, putting a hand around Matthew's shoulders. "Are you sure you are related?"

"Sometimes I ask so myself…" Matthew muttered, blushing slightly by Francis' abrupt vicinity.

"Did you say something?" Alfred asked again looking back at Matthew, confused.

"Nothing." Matthew said and Francis snickered.

"Take your bloody hands off him, Francis!" Arthur suddenly shouted shooting a look at the French.

"Why~?" Francis suddenly said, letting go of Matthew and leaning over to where Arthur was sitting. "Are we jealous?"

"We're here!" Arthur hastily said, pulling up a driveway and stopping the car.

"Artie, you really look tense." Alfred said, "Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"I'm _fine_!" Arthur exclaimed, opened the door and got off. "You are going to miss the plane if you don't hurry."

"Oh, right!" Alfred said and got off as well, then turning to Matthew: "You are really antisocial, bro! You didn't say a word throughout the ride!"

Matthew just sighed and took their luggage from the trunk.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Francis" he said instead then, ignoring his brother's complaints, stretching a hand to Francis and blushing when the older man kissed his fingers in an old-fashioned manner. Arthur scowled and slapped Francis hard on the back.

"What was that for?" Francis whined putting a hand where Arthur slapped him.

"Mosquito." Arthur said looking smug and then followed Alfred and Matthew inside the airport. Francis swore something in French and then followed the others inside as well.

Fortunately the two brothers hadn't missed the plane just yet but they were the last to board and there was no time for them to say proper goodbyes before they checked in. Matthew apologized again and again for that even if he wasn't his fault and Arthur just dismissed him with a wave of his hand, perfectly aware he should be the one doing the apologies.

"Thanks for the ride, Artie!" Alfred exclaimed before he left. "Are you sure you are okay?" he asked then shooting a worried look at Francis, who was talking animatedly with a flight attendant that happened to pass by behind them. Arthur followed Alfred's line of view and nodded, trying to hide his scowl.

"He is going to leave soon, anyway. I really can't wait." He said and then smiled at Alfred and Matthew. "Have a nice flight!"

"Thanks!" Alfred and Matthew exclaimed in unison and disappeared in the crowd of people.

"So!" Francis said the moment Arthur was finally alone. "Are you hungry?" he asked, smiling widely and Arthur just scowled at him and made a bee line back to his car in the parking.

"I wish you were the one to fly today!" Arthur said opening the door to the driver's seat. Francis followed him and sat on the seat that Alfred had occupied mere seconds before.

"Too bad you'll have to wait a couple of days more!" Francis said, looking absolutely radiant as if he was happy he made Arthur's existence so miserable. Arthur believed from the bottom of his heart that those were Francis' true intentions and he wondered who brainwashed Arthur so badly that he actually said yes when Francis asked him if he could come with him to the airport. Arthur's mind went back to the day before when Francis asked when and where they should meet and Arthur willing giving him directions.

"I'm nuts." Arthur thought. He shot a glance to where Francis was meddling with his radio's stations and wondered once more if he should drive them to a far along place, kill the guy and bury his body somewhere no one could find him.

"Having murderous thoughts again?" Francis said, grinning. Arthur cursed and parked the car. Francis looked around him, noticed there was a pub in the vicinity and nodded to himself.

"I'm hungry too, so do you mind getting off my car really quickly?" Arthur exclaimed getting off himself. Francis scowled at him but did as told.

"You are so _grumpy_, Arthur." Francis said as they stepped inside the pub and occupied a table. "No wonder no one likes you."

"Shut it up, frog." Arthur exclaimed ordering something to eat for both of them. "It's no surprise if your only friends are as nuts as you are. You are unbearable."

"At least I have more than just one." Francis teased. "And I didn't need to open my legs to them to make them my friends." He added then. Arthur abruptly turned his head at him, disbelieving.

"We were friends before that happened!" Arthur shouted, blushing madly and making the whole pub turn to look at them. Francis laughed and thanked the waiter who brought them their drinks. Arthur groaned, felt his cheeks burn up and without a warning kicked Francis hard under the table.

His cry of pain made Arthur happy for the next two hours.

* * *

"So what did you decide to do with the company?" Arthur asked when they were both full and ready to return home. Francis made a long humming noise and then shrugged.

"None of your business."

"What?" Arthur scowled, "I work there! I have all rights to know!"

"Your boss should be the first one to know." Francis said, nose up in the air, making Arthur groan loudly. "And anyway, I haven't decided yet. I'm not happy with what I saw, Arthur." He added then, sounding so much like Arthur's boss that Arthur couldn't repress a snicker.

"Are you _laughing_?" Francis asked then looking absolutely curious. Arthur looked away and said:

"No. Of course not." He coughed. "You are not funny."

Francis looked smugly at Arthur for a moment, and Arthur coughed and said:

"Anyway, I asked because I wanted to know when your ugly face will finally let me be."

"I have two more days for me to decide. You have to wait a little more." Francis said suddenly taking Arthur's hand in his and massaging his fingers. Arthur punched him hard across the face for touching him.

A minute later, Arthur offered (albeit unwillingly) to take Francis to his hotel. Francis told him that he rather tease him a little more until Arthur got home and then he would return back to his hotel on foot. Arthur started complaining. Francis complained about Arthur's eyebrows.

And in the end managed to stay with him until they reached Arthur's apartment. When Arthur parked the car and made a bee line to his building, Francis was still following him.

"I got home safe and sound. You can go." Arthur said dripping sarcasm. Francis just leered and pointed at Arthur's t-shirt instead.

"I never thought I would live to see you wearing one of those." Francis said.

"It's just a t-shirt!" Arthur looked down at himself and wondered if there was anything wrong with his outfit. He opened the front door, called the elevator and waited for Francis to say something.

"Yes, okay, but I'm used to see you wearing boring suits." They got in, Francis pressed the bottom to Arthur's floor. "Now you are wearing jeans that leave nothing to imagination…" Francis ogled him, checking him up and down and Arthur couldn't refrain himself from hitting him again.

"Stop staring at me, pervert!" Arthur exclaimed, "They are just jeans!"

"I think you are sexy." Francis said, "Pity for those unruly hair and those caterpillars you call eyebrows."

Arthur accidentally stepped on Francis' foot when he got out from the elevator.

* * *

Arthur won't tell Francis that that afternoon, before they drove Alfred and Matthew to the airport, he had checked his entire wardrobe in search of an outfit that wasn't a suit or something just as boring. He found his old jeans, his old t-shirts and sneakers and wondered if it would be strange for a twenty-seven year old man to start wearing those instead. He had buried those clothes in the back of his head and now that he looked at them again he was reminded of his brother, his disappointed eyes, the sadness that had filled the room when the news of his mother had died reached their ears.

_"Look at you." _His brother, the one Arthur most get along with, had told him that day. _"Look at way you dress, you hair, those piercings on your ears and nose! Do you think this is funny? Coming here like a punk? How can we all take you seriously if you are dressed like that? Our mother has died of sadness because of you! She lost her husband because of you! You never did something useful with your life! How can we take you seriously?"_

His brother may have talked out of grief but his words have struck a chord deep inside Arthur. He wondered if his mother had been indeed sad seeing him signing with his band, seeing him wearing the clothes he liked and not having any dreams of becoming a businessman or someone just as important. He wondered if his attitude had been her only thought when she brought those bottles of alcohol near his lips.

Arthur let his dreams go.

Became what they expected him to become.

Let them down again.

But when he put his old clothes on, when he stopped before a shop window and saw something he really liked and thought about Francis, his only thought had been:

_"Damn you. I feel better this way."_

* * *

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Francis sneered and Arthur turned suddenly his head to him. They were before Arthur's door and Francis was looking at him as if expecting something that Arthur wasn't sure he was willing to give.

"You piss me off, you know that?" Arthur exclaimed and scowled. Francis groaned.

"I was just trying to compliment you! But as I see you don't like compliments!" Francis exclaimed. "Man! You are so difficult to please!"

"I am not!" Arthur exclaimed, furrowing his eyebrows and feeling something akin to anger fill his heart.

"I am a master in pleasing men and women alike! Romantically or in terms of work." Francis exclaimed, affronted, "I'm good with compliments and diplomacy, but here you come in the picture and disregard all my good intentions." Here Arthur laughed, "I'm sure you are the difficult guy here!"

"Maybe you are not good as you claim to be!"

"Maybe you are just as cold as an ice cube."

"I'm not cold. You are the disillusioned one."

"Is that so?"

It was a challenge, they knew, and neither of them knew what was going to happen next. Arthur was taken aback when Francis suddenly attacked him, pressing so violently his lips against Arthur's ones, that made the younger man stubble against his own door. The kiss bruised him, hurt him, and in less than a second threw him over the edge. Arthur clutched Francis' shirt to push him away (pull him closer) and opened his mouth to complain (let him in). Who closed his eyes first, Arthur didn't know. Who leaned closer to the other first, Arthur didn't know.

What he did know, however, was that he suddenly started thinking of fairies. Of all things he should have been thinking in that moment it was the stupidest, he knew, but he was suddenly reminded of how much he had believed in mystical creature when he was younger, before his mother died and before he had forgotten himself.

(And who said a fairy hadn't been the one to make him push that vase down the rail, make his heart stop and told him: "Look down and start being yourself again. It's your turn to tell yourself what you should do.")

With that thought in mind the brutal kiss became a soft, passionate one.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Arthur shouted suddenly, biting hard on Francis' lip a pushing him abruptly away. He blushed from anger and embarrassment and Francis stared at him with half lidded eyes for a moment before he regained breath.

"What the hell am I doing?" Francis repeated stupidly, "What the hell are you doing? You bit me!"

"Hah!" Arthur exclaimed, widening his eyes disbelieving. "You put a hand under my shirt, wanker!"

"And you touched my ass. Big deal."

"And you put your nasty tongue in my mouth!"

"You opened that mouth in the first place!"

"You kissed me!"

"You weren't complaining." Francis snorted, "You moaned."

"Wanna die?" Arthur screeched but before Francis could say anything he opened the door and slammed it hard in Francis' face.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur wasn't going to look Francis' way.

No.

No way.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to where Francis was talking to his boss. Francis suddenly looked at him and grinned.

Damn it.

Arthur looked back at his paperwork, started signing every page, front and back, up and down and in every empty spot he could find.

Francis was still starting at him.

Damn it. Arthur had looked at him again. Damn it. Damnit. Damnit. Damnit. He couldn't wait to wipe that stupid grin off that stupid face, with that stupid beard, or whatever Francis had on his stupid chin, under those stupid, soft lips, and that stupid nose and his stupid, blue eyes, bright, perverted, amazing, beautiful…. Damn it.

"I don't think your sign is needed that much. Hey, are you sick? You are red."

Arthur almost fell from his chair as soon as he heard Francis whisper in his ear in that way. He (almost) slapped the other with all the paperwork he wasn't supposed to sign that much across the face and turned to look at Francis, red in the face but not from embarrassment or any as pitiful as that.

"I'm perfectly okay! Thank you!" Arthur shouted, "And don't creep on me like that! You are insufferable! Stay far away from me!" he exclaimed. Francis just raised an eyebrow and leaned closer, leering lecherously at him:

"Your words say no, but your body says yes."

"My body doesn't say a bloody thing, you bastard! Do you want me to sue you for sexual harassment?" Arthur exclaimed, perfectly aware that everyone was by now ignoring their assignment and listening closely to their conversation. Francis stared at him and for a single moment Arthur was sure he had won the argument when Francis opened his mouth and said:

"Do you want me to?"

Which made Arthur punch the other across the face in front of everybody, including the boss himself.

"You should be ashamed, Arthur." His boss told him half an hour later, calling both Arthur and Francis in his office and looking completely devastated by Arthur's antics. Arthur wished they could trade lives for just one day and laugh when his boss will beg for forgiveness after less than twenty-four hours spent with that bastard.

Said bastard looked completely composed beside him, as if Arthur had never punched him and made Francis' nose bleed in the first place. Francis (under Arthur's annoyed stare) looked at his nails, then wiped his trousers clean from invisible dirt and crossed his legs.

Arthur was furious.

"He started it!"

"I did not." Francis said immediately afterwards.

"Arthur, please. We are not in kindergarten. You are two grown men and he is…" the boss shot a disapproving look in Arthur's way, "… a delegate from another's country company as well. You can't act like a twelve years old in front of him."

"He… he…!" Arthur wanted to act as gentlemanly as he could, as diplomatically as he should, as Arthur-like as he wanted, but he couldn't. Francis was taking the worst out of him. And, for God sake! If he could stop staring at his nails like that! They were already fucking perfect and…

"Arthur?"

Arthur gulped. He had been staring again. Francis smiled. Arthur mentally gave him the finger. Francis mentally licked it…

"Arthur!"

"What?" Arthur exclaimed, getting red in the face at the way his boss (and Francis) was looking at him.

"You were saying something about… fingers?"

"I…" Arthur gulped, shot a glance at Francis, who raised an eyebrow, and wondered if he was doomed to die any time soon. "No, sir. I didn't."

"Oh." His boss said. "Well, as I was saying. I'm not proud of you, but I guess you two know each other a long time for acting so… at ease…." Arthur was sure he wanted to say 'foolishly', "… with each other. I'll let it pass but I think an apology is in order."

"Yeah…" Arthur crossed his arms, knew a losing case when he saw one, looked down and sighed: "Yeah."

"Arthur…" the boss started but then Francis stood up, smiled at them both and said:

"It's okay. He doesn't need to apologize, and anyway, we are not going to see each other again, no?"

That gained Arthur's attention.

"You mean his attitude didn't make you change your mind?" the boss said, sounding as surprised as Arthur felt in that moment.

"No. Our companies are going to work together from now on. You have my approval." Francis said and Arthur suddenly looked up at him, straight in the eyes and opened his mouth like a fish out of the water.

"You are leaving?"

Francis looked at him. Arthur felt like drowning, a fish drowning out of the water, and he felt his stomach clutch in a weird way, felt his heartbeat race in his chest, his fingers shake and that stupid longing of standing up and kiss Francis senseless because he needed to feel him closer closer closer.

"Yes." Francis said. "I made my decision."

"But." Arthur started, shut his mouth, and wondered if he had the guts to really kiss Francis senseless. Francis raised an eyebrow:

"Well, isn't that what you wanted, Arthur?" he said with that ridiculous pronunciation, saying those 'r' in a way that made Arthur dizzy.

"It is, yes." Arthur said, standing up and looking at his boss again. "I need to return back to work, if I may."

"Oh, yes, of course." His boss said, his eyes darting from Arthur to Francis and back to Arthur as if he knew something Arthur really wanted to go on without. Arthur shot a glance at Francis, straight in those bright blue, wondered why they made him so angry and so lustful in a moment and then opened the door and returned back to his own cubicle, back to his paperwork, back to his boring papers full of unnecessary signs.

* * *

Francis stared at Arthur.

He couldn't help himself.

Arthur was ugly.

That kind of ugly that was beautiful. If it made any sense.

That kind of ugly that was beautiful and that you couldn't go on without once you got a taste of it. That made even less sense.

Arthur glanced at him. Green eyes, angry eyes, lustful eyes, beautiful eyes.

The day before Francis had no intention of kissing Arthur. Francis had no intention of taste those lips, see how soft they were, how addicting they could be.

The day before Francis had no intention of pressing his body against Arthur's one, feel every curve, every bone, every breath the other made.

And today he had no intention of doing it again.

But when Arthur looked at him like that, when Arthur looked completely devastated when Francis told him he was returning back home, Francis had wanted nothing more than kneel down and take him in his arms. Arthur wouldn't have liked that.

Arthur didn't want to be treated like a lady. He was no lady. Ladies didn't punch like that.

Ladies didn't make him furious like that.

Ladies didn't make him feel like _that_.

Arthur Kirkland was ugly because he scowled, not because he had ugly features. Francis would miss those big eyebrows if they were gone, Arthur's eyes were amazing, his nose, his chin, his hands, his legs, his whole body, his whole being was beautiful. It made Francis want to turn back time and move an inch forward more so that that vase could hit him in the head and put an end to his life, so he wouldn't have to live with the taste of Arthur in his mouth. If that made any sense at all.

"You are leaving?"

If you keep making me feel so angry, furious and head over heels for you, Francis wanted to say, I won't.

* * *

Fate was a big word.

There was no way everything happened because it was written.

Arthur wrote down each happening with a scowl on his face.

The vase fell down - he didn't hit Francis - he recognized him the day after - which made his boss think that they knew each other and assigned Francis to him rather than his busty secretary - they spent all week together - the suit - the rose in his glass vase - Gilbert, Antonio (and one day, who knows? Lovino, Feliciano, Ludwig, Elizabeta… a lot of people in that solitary life where Arthur's only friend was Alfred) - that wanting for a change - the kiss

The kiss.

(The kiss. Francis' lips.)

(The kiss. Francis' eyes.)

If fate existed, then Arthur couldn't understand what it wanted from him. The vase fell down so that he could meet Francis? So that Francis could tell him it was time to live? And now that they kissed, should Arthur go and kiss him again?

Hah!

Fate didn't exist. It was just another, big word.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur Kirkland woke up that morning with the thought that there was a wedding ring in his drawer. Arthur Kirkland had never been married, even if he had his own share of boyfriends (and girlfriends, before he realized he didn't like them that way) in the past who had wanted to marry him. There had been only a woman in his life (red hair, prideful, simply amazing) with whom he would have liked to spend his whole life with, but that was a long time ago and her memory was slowly disappearing from his mind.

Arthur stopped thinking about the ring when he made his tea, then remembered it immediately afterwards when he entered his bedroom to pick up yesterday's clothes and put them in the washing machine. He decided to forget it again when he stepped in the shower, before he got out, dripping wet, and shamelessly opened the drawer in all his nudity and took the ring out.

"I must give it back."

Francis Bonnefoy was going back to France the morning after but Arthur knew that, even if Francis was still in Arthur's city, he wasn't going to go to Arthur's company to tell him goodbye. His work was done and there was no reason for him to stay any longer.

(And Arthur wasn't a good enough reason to stay. And Francis wasn't a good enough reason for Arthur to ditch work and go to Francis' hotel and… and… _go to hell_.)

"I should give it back."

Arthur then dropped it back in the drawer and decided that the best idea for now was to finish showering and go to work. He had a job. His company was going to earn a lot of money now that they were going to work with the French. He had to work because now the paperwork would double up and there would be no time for slacking off.

"I don't want to give it back."

But who wanted to go to work when all Arthur could think of was how nicely their lips (his and Francis) connected together, like they were made for each other, as if someone had split them apart when they still didn't have eyes to see who was in front of them? What was he saying now? There must have been something in the tea…

Arthur had felt the same kind of feelings he did now when he was dating Alfred. The feeling they had belonged together a long time ago, but now that he thought about it, it hadn't felt as brutal, as primitive, as lustful, as needed, as logical, as illogical, as impossible, as possible, as yeah-that-was-what-I-was-searching-for as it felt when Francis was near him, mentally or physically it didn't matter.

"Why should I give it back?"

Arthur wished he could turn back time. Back to that day when William called him, made him angry and he dropped a vase from his balcony. Back to that moment when Francis looked up at him (angry, scared, amused) for the first time. Back to the moment Arthur saw those blue eyes and felt his heart racing.

Arthur wanted to go back in time. Maybe this time he could tell his past-self to be careful. Do not drop the vase, he would say. Then Arthur wouldn't have seen Francis' eyes, wouldn't have recognized him the day after, wouldn't have made a fool of himself before everybody else, and Francis would have had the secretary as his tutor now, maybe he would have kissed her instead and Arthur would have never had the chance to start _needing_ those eyes at all.

Or maybe he could tell his past self to drop the vase an inch on the right more, see Francis' dying blue eyes before he had a chance to fall in love with them.

(But then, would he manage to live with those eyes in his conscience? Dead or alive, Francis would always be _there_.)

Fall in love.

That was a strange way to put it.

A vase fell and Arthur fell together with it. He fell in love with Francis and now that he was going to leave him, his heart was shattered in thousands of pieces like earth ware.

"You are an idiot, Arthur Kirkland."

* * *

Francis Bonnefoy was an idiot. The kind that didn't realize that they were idiots until it was too late. That was his first thought when he woke up in his ugly hotel bed that morning. His second thought was coffee, but when he went down to the restaurant to have breakfast he asked for tea instead.

The tea reflected his face, his eyes and his nose. He drank it in just one gulp so he didn't need to see the way he looked at himself more than he should. His eyes were telling him: you are an idiot because yesterday you told him that you are leaving but you didn't say anything else, a "See you", "Come with me", a "Let's go away together somewhere else".

Or better yet, "Date me."

Francis was an idiot for thinking all that stuff. What was he supposed to do? He lived in France, Arthur lived here and Arthur loved it here, with his tea and boring crosswords and that embroidery stuff that he never ended. Arthur wanted him gone. Francis couldn't stand Arthur more than a day. Francis couldn't stand the thought of not tasting those lips again.

And wow. Arthur was addicting like a drug, like coffee, like smoking, like something that was bad for your health but you want more, more, more because it's just too good. Francis didn't have a chance. He was a doomed man.

(Like when he saw the Arthur without suit, with those jeans that were just too tight and that smile of one who had finally found his position in this world. The one who didn't give a damn.)

So he drank his tea, ate a croissant, felt nauseous at the idea of putting his clothes in his luggage and doing another little tour of the city before going to bed early because he had to take a plane the morning after.

Should he go to Arthur's office? See him again? Slam him against a door inside a closet and have his way with the Brit? Hear him moan again? Hear him scream? Hear the way Arthur pronounced his name in that way that made shivers run down Francis' spine?

Or should he stay right there in the hotel? See Arthur's city from the window and wait for the moment his lust, that strange butterfly feeling in his stomach, was gone? Wait until the moment the phrase 'fall in love' and the name 'Arthur' couldn't connect anymore in his brain? It wasn't going to last long, was it?

"You are an idiot, Francis Bonnefoy."

* * *

So Arthur stepped outside his building thinking to go right to where his office was but strangely turned left instead because he suddenly forgot his way to work.

* * *

So Francis stepped outside his building thinking to go left, to where the underground station was and go to the center of the city, asked for directions, he didn't understood the guy's accent and turned right instead because he suddenly forgot his way back to his hotel.

* * *

And then Arthur had to cross a road and Francis was there on the other side.

And then Francis had to cross a road and Arthur was there on the other side.

* * *

The streetlight went green. They met halfway.

"Still here?"

"Aren't you late for work?"

And then started walking together away, to the park, to the center of the city or somewhere far away where there was nothing else but their bickering, their fighting, their hate and that strange longing of stretching their hand and touch the other's fingers and never let go.

* * *

"I'm glad I'm going back to France, you know?" Francis said watching with disgust Arthur eat his fish and chips. Arthur shot him a look, silently offered one of his chips, Francis took one and brought it to his mouth.

"Why is that?"

"Well, first of all, back at home it doesn't rain so unpredictably." Francis said, Arthur snorted. "Moreover, I'm sick of that lack of style your people have. You lack taste, in every possible way." Francis said contradicting himself by taking another of Arthur's chips. Arthur snorted:

"I think you gained some weight." Arthur said, checking him up and down, "From the first time I saw you."

"No, I didn't!" Francis exclaimed, shocked and checking his belly. Arthur laughed and grabbed his cheeks .

"You bloody well did! Look!" and started pulling. Francis slapped him away, Arthur kept laughing, Francis wanted to record that laughter forever in his mind.

"Will you stop _that_?" Francis exclaimed, cursed in his mother tongue and Arthur looked at him, disgusted.

"Your language sucks." He said, "You sound weird even when you curse."

"Oh, so you know I was cursing?" Francis raised an eyebrow, Arthur stepped back and blushed.

"Err… I… no, I didn't… I just supposed… well… oh, shut up!"

"You know _French_?" Francis made a step forwards, licking his lips, while Arthur's cringed and looked completely devastated at Francis' insinuation.

"No sane man would ever study your language."

"But you aren't a sane man, are you?"

"Are you implying something?" Arthur was angry. Francis was amused.

"You are eating fish and chips at ten o'clock in the morning, for example." Francis said, "And you are walking with me rather than going to work. No sane man would do that."

"I didn't have breakfast." Arthur said to his defense, "But I agree to the second part."

"So would any sane man kiss me, another no sane man, right here in the park?"

"I don't think so. No." Arthur said, "And I'm sane. You are the mentally unstable here."

"Sanity be damned."

"Is that so?"

Arthur said so with a sarcastic tone in his voice but when he suddenly turned to look at Francis he was surprised to see that the other blond looked completely serious. Francis stood there, stared right into Arthur's soul and said:

"Come back to the hotel with me."

"Pervert." Was all Arthur could say, but his heart started beating a little too fast to be normal, even if he would never admit it out loud.

"I'm _serious_." Francis said, almost whining and Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, his lips turned into a thin line, looked down, then up again:

"And I'm serious too. You are a pervert." Arthur said, threw away his empty now from fish and chips rolled up paper and looked at Francis again. Francis stopped in front of Arthur and Arthur looked straight into those eyes he so much hated to love and waited.

(For what?)

"You are ugly."

(Probably not that.)

"Oh, thanks." Arthur said, scowling and ready to punch the other when he last expected it. "You are ugly as well."

"You are ugly when you scowl, that's what I meant. So bitchy~" Francis said, running a thumb along Arthur's lip and gaining a kick in the shin as an answer. Arthur snorted, made his scowl even deeper and then walked away.

"No goodbye kiss?" Francis exclaimed, running after him. Arthur gave him the finger, Francis laughed and followed him anyway.

(And when they turned to a less crowded part of the park, it felt like it was the most sensible thing to do in the world, to lean in, grab the other's shirt, pull him closer and kiss until they got no breath in their lungs.)

* * *

"Have a nice flight tomorrow." Arthur said when they were before Francis' hotel again. "I hope your plane crashes down."

"You are mean." Francis said, "What about the other people?"

"No one dies but you." Arthur said, serious. Francis wasn't amused.

"I knew you wanted me dead since you almost dropped that vase on my head."

"That was an accident." Arthur stated, then smiled ironically. "But I do regret missing the target now, yeah."

"So you don't mind me leaving?" Francis asked then, smirking knowingly and perfectly aware that Arthur could still taste him in his mouth.

"Yes, of course I don't mind." Arthur said. "And I really hope that I never see you again."

"I hope that too." Francis said, then turned to the front door, felt the keys to his apartment in his pocket. "It was a pain in the ass meeting you."

"I agree. Let's not meet again." Arthur said, turned to walk away, then stopped, felt Francis' hand on his shoulder holding him still. Arthur immediately slapped it away and didn't turn to look at Francis when the French said:

"I want you. I want you so fucking bad and not just for one time. I want you in my bed, in my house, in my life, everyday."

Arthur didn't speak when after a moment Francis said:

"I'm going back to France and I don't know if I'll ever come back. Don't make this be the last image I'll have of you."

"You'll move on." Arthur said, "I'll do to. And we don't even like each other."

Arthur couldn't think when Francis stopped talking. Arthur then shrugged, wished him a good/bad flight again and returned back home.


	11. Chapter 11

_6 months later._

"You sound grumpier that usual."

"I am not grumpy, git."

"Are you sure? I bet you would have bitten my head off if I were there!"

"I swear I'm going to if you keep saying stupid things like that!"

Arthur swore he wasn't angry. He was just a little pissed off that summer vacations were over and he was back in his little cubicle doing nothing but signing papers day in, day out. Alfred calling him did wonders for his already depressed mood, but he tried to act cool and told him the real reasons of his distress. Arthur hoped that that would satisfy Alfred's hunger for gossip and will finally let him read his newspaper in peace.

"Summer vacations?" Alfred laughed. "Come on! Like I can believe that! You are acting so moody for months now! Even a summer here in America with me didn't improve your gloomy mood!"

"Have you ever considered that I may have been "gloomy", as you claim, because I was spending my so-earned vacations with _you?_"

"You wouldn't have accepted my invitation so eagerly if that was the case!" Alfred laughed and Arthur swore the other guy had someone protecting him somewhere, because the fellow was so damn lucky to be in another part of the continent and not there in Arthur's living room when he spattered all that nonsense. Arthur wondered how the hell have he managed to fell in love with the guy when they were in college. Probably his piercings had done something to his brain…

"Are you sure it doesn't have anything to do with that mystery packet?"

Surely, though, his piercings must have done permanent damage to _Alfred_'s brain if he managed to say such nonsensical things when the _obvious_ reason of Arthur's distress was going back to work after summer vacations.

"My kettle is whistling. Bye!" Arthur hung up, stared at the phone as if daring it to ring again and then sighed and put it away, under his pillow so he could pretend not to hear it.

"Alfred is such an idiot." Arthur muttered to himself, opened the newspaper, didn't notice that he was holding it upside-down and started reading.

Alfred was an idiot because it was crystal clear that Arthur wasn't "gloomy" because of a stupid, mystery packet he happened to receive a week before. Arthur had even forgotten that the packet had ever existed as the first thing he did was throwing it immediately in the trash.

Arthur had totally forgot how that Monday morning, as he was doing his business with his paperwork, his boss' secretary entered in his cubicle holding a packet close to her busty chest.

"What is it?" Arthur had asked, looking up from the papers straight into the secretary's furrowed eyebrows.

"A packet came this morning to the office, but the receiver's name is… quite weird…" the secretary said.

"And?"

"I've been asking around to know if anyone knows something about a certain…" the secretary looked down at the packet and then nodded, "…_Mr. Petit-Lapin, _but no one knew this French guy and…!"

"Let me see!" Arthur exclaimed, shooting up from his chair and sending all of his paperwork down on the floor with it. The secretary made a step back but gave him the packet anyway and Arthur took it in his hands, imagined Francis sending it, holding it in his arms, writing his damned nickname on the paper, and suddenly he felt weak. Weak and pathetic and angry.

"Do you know him?" the secretary asked. Arthur had to contain himself, contain his anger that the thought Francis had touched something he now was holding made his stomach churn, still after so many months, so many nights spent _not _thinking about the guy he almost killed with a vase.

"No." Arthur said, gave the packet back in the secretary's still open arms, sat down, started picking up his paperwork… "Throw it away. It must be a joke."

A joke.

Like the fact Arthur had started wearing Francis' wedding finger on his right thumb, just to see if he looked good with it, just to see his reflection on it when he thought he had something between his teeth.

A joke.

Like starting to buy roses every two Saturdays because his little coffee table looked empty without something red to revive the mood.

A joke.

Like accepting Alfred's invitation because Arthur couldn't bear the thought of being alone with nothing to do for a month, scared that he might have unwanted thoughts when his conscience took his logic over.

If that packet was a joke, then it hurt like hell. Arthur was perfectly aware that Francis had written his nickname on purpose, that it was Francis' way to tell _him_ something without the others knowing what exactly that was. Arthur was just scared to see what. Maybe inside there was something that would tell Arthur that Francis was still thinking of him. Maybe inside there was something that would tell Arthur that Francis had got over him. A wedding invitation, maybe? A photograph of his new lover? Arthur didn't want to know. Either way it wouldn't be a funny joke.

"Should I throw it away? Really?" the secretary told him. Arthur shrugged and started checking his documents again.

Arthur had completely forgotten about the little incident and now that he was reminded again by that fool of Alfred Arthur couldn't-! For goodness' sake! Why America's president was looking at him upside-down? Arthur shut the newspaper close and then put it away near the empty flowerpot on the coffee table.

Arthur stared at the television screen for a little while, deep in thought, before he stood up from his sofa and decided to finally go to work.

* * *

"So how things are now that we merged with the company back in France?" Arthur asked. He didn't know why he was asking really, and his boss too seemed a little taken aback by the question. Nevertheless, he recovered immediately and answered:

"Good. Business has never gone better." Then he narrowed his eyes and looked straight into Arthur's face. Arthur felt like a deer caught in the headlights and felt a lump in his throat when his boss opened his mouth and added: "Are you here for a raise?"

Arthur would have nodded in any other circumstances, but this time he just felt relived at his boss' way of thought and tried hard not to laugh.

"No, no." he said, even if did want a raise now that he thought about it, "But I was just wondering if you have something for me to do."

"In France?" his boss was shocked.

"I speak French." Arthur immediately added to his defense. His boss looked more amused than shocked at this point.

* * *

Arthur didn't know what he was doing there. He regretted buying that ticket to France now and he wanted nothing more than turn the other way around and return back to the airport. He regretted asking his boss' secretary if she knew the address of a certain Francis Bonnefoy and regretted blushing when his secretary smiled and said: "Oh, I remember! The delegate from France! He was the sender of that mystery packet, did you know? There was his address on it…"

Arthur looked at the nice buildings around him, smelled that air that was so absolutely French that made him sick and wondered if he had the guts to press the doorbell any time soon.

Arthur looked at the name written under the button he was supposed to push and then held tighter the envelope in his hands. He sighed, inhaled French air, exhaled his distress and groaned when his heart started racing in his heart at the thought he wasn't back in his home anymore but in France for the second (and hoped the last) time in his life. He couldn't do it.

An old woman passed by, looked at him, nodded and smiled. He did the same.

Then a couple took their dog out for a walk. Arthur wondered what kind of dog it was.

Then a boy with his mother passed by, and Arthur was suddenly reminded of a hospital bed, of a woman looking up at him, stretching her arm and cupping his cheek.

_"Just do the right thing." _She said. Words that meant nothing to him until his brother started screaming at him immediately after their mother passed away.

Arthur thought that the right thing was to be a business man. Arthur was sure that the right thing was forgetting his guitar, his singing and start doing something with his life. He didn't regret the money, his job, or the fact he could afford his house now, but he was sure he was going to regret it immensely if he did _the right thing _once more and pressed that damned doorbell.

"Oh, fuck you." Arthur exclaimed and pressed the button. The door opened almost immediately, as if the owner of the house knew Arthur was standing there, wondering whether to knock on the door or not, since he had first stepped in France.

"Oh."

Arthur looked up into bright blue eyes and Francis tilted his head to the side, like the dog Arthur had seen mere moments before, looking as surprised as Arthur was for having pressed the doorbell after all. They stared at each other for a while, a long, awkward moment Arthur was going to regret for the rest of his life, and then, when Francis last expected it, he acted.

"I came to give you this!" Arthur exclaimed, practically shoving the envelope in Francis' face. "It's from my boss for your boss! But I didn't know where the office were and-!"

Francis grabbed his hand and pulled him inside and Arthur dropped the envelope, felt Francis slam him against the now closed door and ravish his mouth. He felt Francis' fingers in his hair, on his cheeks, on his body, everywhere, and Arthur didn't mind as long as Francis' fingers kept being everywhere, on his body, on his cheeks, in his hair.

(And they did. Francis didn't pull away when Arthur's shirt came off. He didn't pull away when they discovered each other body there against the door, on the couch, on the kitchen's floor, on the stairs in their haste to go upstairs, in the shower. Arthur didn't pull away when, after all that sex, they finally made love on Francis' bed.)

* * *

When Arthur finally left Francis' apartment, it was already morning. When Arthur realized he was wearing Francis' clothes and not his own, he was already on the train. When Francis picked up the envelope Arthur had brought with him and opened it, he realized that there was nothing inside. Empty.

Francis started laughing.

* * *

"I don't have anything for you to do in France." His boss said. Arthur's hopes dropped and then he felt angry that he had hopes in the first place.

"You don't even want me to send a message to their company?"

"I have the internet for that."

"Oh, alright then." Arthur sighed, "May I ask for a week off then?"

* * *

When France passed before a flower shop that morning, he was surprised to feel himself being mesmerized by a vase of beautiful white lilies. He stared at them for what he thought was an eternity and laughed when the flower-lady asked him if he wanted to buy them.

"No, I was just mesmerized by your beauty." He said to which the lady smiled, blushed and returned back into her little shop without another comment. The lady probably wanted him to come in or to pass by another time, but Francis never did.

That morning he went to the posts instead, bought a packet, wrote his address and Arthur's office address on the paper and sent it. Inside there was nothing.

Francis didn't really didn't know why he did it, but just the thought that Arthur may touch the packet made shivers run down his spine. He wanted to know if Arthur still thought of him, if he had moved on. Maybe Arthur will laugh his head off when he will see the empty packet and send a photo of his new lover, a wedding invitation maybe, a message that told Francis that he was an idiot for still thinking of him.

After all nothing remains still for six whole months. Not even emotions.

Instead of a photo or a wedding invitation, there on his door, Francis found Arthur staring at him. In that moment he understood that Arthur had never opened the packet because if he had and found it empty Arthur would have been so damn pissed off and would have never made such a travel to his home.

Or maybe he was there to punch him in the face. Francis thought Arthur was going to when he suddenly moved and shoved something in his face. Francis didn't know what it was, it didn't matter, because as soon as he felt Arthur's scent in his nostrils, he couldn't contain him anymore and pulled the other inside.

"Let him hate me afterwards." Francis thought, "But he if kisses me back, I won't let go anymore."

Arthur did and after six months of being completely still things started moving again.


	12. Chapter 12

Francis had a dream.

He dreamt that his boss told him to go to England, work for another company for a week or so and then decide if they were worth enough for them to work with. He dreamt that he didn't want to go, that he phoned Antonio and stared complaining about it for hours, that the guy told him that maybe he would have a nice experience and meet someone special and Francis had said "Yeah, right", while looking down at his wedding ring on his finger.

He dreamt that he took a plane, arrived at a really cheap hotel and wondered what was that strange, burnt stuff they had given him for breakfast. He dreamt that he had put on his most expensive suit and had asked for directions to go to the office his boss had told him about.

He dreamt noticing a vase of white lilies on a balcony rail. He remembered shrugging and moving on, towards the company, where he met its boss, met his beautiful secretary and deciding in the end that they were too boring to work with.

Francis then woke up with the feeling he had missed something important.

* * *

William Kirkland hadn't expected his little brother's visit. Arthur was the last person he expected to see when someone knocked on his door and he went to see who it was.

"Will you let me in or not?"

The arrogant voice made William immediately understand that he wasn't dreaming and that Arthur was indeed there on his doorstep, waiting, pouting and holding a bag against his chest like he used to do with his stuffed unicorn back when he was a baby and something troubled him. William groaned, suddenly felt like a cigarette was needed and let Arthur in.

"Thanks."

Sarcastic as usual. William searched inside his pockets for a cigarette. He found none.

"What do you want?" he asked instead, hoping that Arthur's visit wasn't going to be a long one. 'As always.' He reminded himself and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I came to give you your old CDs back." Arthur said holding an old looking bag up for William to see. William raised an eyebrow, remembered the day, ten years before, when he discovered that all his CDs were gone and had tried to find them all around the house for weeks afterwards. William clearly remembered blaming Arthur for it, he clearly remembered seeing Arthur trying to hide one of his CDs in his school bag but not telling Arthur about it.

William never beat Arthur for that, but he never thought Arthur would ever admit being the one stealing them. William took the bag from Arthur's hands, saw that all the CDs were intact and then, almost snorting, he gave it back to Arthur.

"Those are not mine." He said and it was Arthur's turn to look confused. His brother took the CDs back, looked inside the bag as if to check what William had said and then looked at him in question. "You know it's not my kind of music, Arthur. You are the one to like that shit."

Arthur looked shocked to say the least and William knew that Arthur had realized William was lying. Of course his brother was too stupid to understand why and, really, Arthur confused face in that moment was really funny.

Now if could have a cigarette.

"I saw a packet near your umbrella in the hall." Arthur said then still looking down at his bag. William shrugged, returned back to the hall, found his packet of cigarettes and put one between his lips.

William then stared at Arthur, stared at the way he dressed, at the way he stood so arrogantly and snorted. William wanted to tell him he looked a lot like their mother but the words didn't come out. The memory of his mother hurt like hell as all memories he had of Arthur's attempts to make them one big, united family did. He lighted his cigarette, took a drag and looked at Arthur again.

His brother had something different on him, William immediately noticed. John would immediately know as he was the only one who got along with Arthur fairly well. Arthur would immediately piss everybody off with his attitude, but John was the only one with enough patience to bear it, at least more than the others did. He wished John was there right now, he could talk to Arthur and William could stay out of the way without feeling guilty about it.

"You look happy." William suddenly said. Arthur looked up, raised his eyebrows and almost dropped the bag on the floor.

"I'm not." Arthur immediately spat. William snorted. Bingo.

Now he knew why Arthur had come. Arthur desperately wanted to tell _someone_ something. Pity that he would never admit it, William thought.

"New girl?"

"No."

"Mmm… boy then?"

"No!" Arthur blushed, made a step backwards, William snorted. Such a baby.

"You know I don't give a rat's ass about it, Arthur." William said.

"And I'm glad!" Arthur exclaimed, "Is not like I want to tell you that it's thanks to you I met him and that he pisses me off and… and… oh, damn you. I don't know why I came." Arthur then pushed William away to get to the door. William exhaled a puff of smoke then looked at Arthur.

"He must be terribly ugly." William said, smirking.

"He is not!" Arthur said. "Oh, _damn it_." And slammed the door behind him. William laughed and then noticed that the old bag full of his old CDs was still there on the floor. He shook his head. Arthur was going to come back.

William then wondered if Arthur was worth that guy's time.

And a part of him wondered if he could manage to ask for the guy's address, in case the latter decided Arthur wasn't really his type and hurt him. In that case William will pay a visit to him.

To congratulate him, of course.

* * *

Francis looked at his friends straight in the eyes with a silly smile on his (modestly speaking) gorgeous face. He asked them if they believed in karma, fate, destiny, whatever they wanted to call it and they stared back at him, straight in the eyes as well but with a confused smile on their (Francis had to admit) not as gorgeous as his was faces.

Gilbert snorted and said that, hell yeah, did he believed in destiny. _He_ was a good example of its existence. Gilbert was born to be awesome, he was destined to be great and if he wasn't for him the world would have never known what 'awesomeness' meant. Francis decided not to tell Gilbert that most of the world didn't know he existed and that 'awesomeness' wasn't even a word, but he kept his thoughts for himself.

Antonio just shrugged and said that he felt like he was destined to love Lovino, so destiny probably existed or maybe he just happened to fall in love with Lovino and in the end destiny was just a way to describe this fortunate coincidence. Francis wondered how people could call Antonio stupid when he said things like that, but then his amazement for his Spanish friend washed away in an instant when Antonio started chasing butterflies (because it would be a beautiful gift for Lovino!) a moment after.

"Well, remember that British guy that almost killed me with a vase?"

Gilbert and Antonio looked at him again.

"That boring guy?"

"I'm in love with him."

The silence that followed his statement was amusing.

* * *

"I'm not in love with him."

"Yeah, right."

"No, I'm not."

"Of course you aren't."

"Could you stop being so sarcastic?"

"I don't know what that word means."

"I hate you."

Arthur stared at Alfred; Alfred stared right back at him, opened his mouth wide and bit down on his hamburger. Arthur scowl deepened (if that was possible) and rested his face on his right hand. While Alfred devoured his meal, Arthur's mind wandered back to that week off in France.

It had been awful, to say the least.

Francis should have said something before kissing him, at least in that way Arthur would have said something back, he would have fought him off and he would have returned back to his homeland as fast as his legs could carry him.

It was awful how Francis had managed to shut down his mind.

It was awful how many times Francis had called him up afterwards.

"See… you are thinking about him again!" Alfred teased and laughed, full of himself, his mouth full of chewed hamburger. Disgusting.

"I'm not thinking about him, git." Arthur said, serious, cold and probably blushing. He didn't want to check himself in the mirror.

"What did your brother say?"

"My brother doesn't care about me." Arthur spat, even if he was having his doubts now, what with the CDs… he expected William to punch him. He didn't. It was probably too early in the morning, Arthur reasoned. And he hadn't had coffee yet.

"Did you call him back?" Alfred then asked.

"I didn't call him back." Arthur said and Alfred made a face that Arthur knew it meant 'Liar' with a capital L.

In fact Arthur had called him back. He had returned each and every call. He had called him back to _insult_ him. He had called him back to tell him…

_"So… are you coming here or not?" _

Francis had laughed.

"You are smiling…" Alfred teased again and this time Arthur did punch him on the arm, just to make the other shut the fuck up. It didn't work.

"So what did he say that makes you smile so much now?"

Arthur shot him a look but covered his mouth with a hand just in case.

"Nothing."

* * *

"So… are you coming here or not?"

Francis laughed. Arthur was pissed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Francis said, "I was thinking about you right now."

"You are a pervert."

Francis ignored him.

"I dreamt what would have happened if that vase had never nearly dropped on my head."

"It was an accident." Arthur exclaimed again. Francis snorted.

"That's not the point." He spat back.

"So?"

"I dreamt that you never were in my life."

"So it was a good dream then?" Arthur scoffed. Francis laughed just the way Arthur _hated. _

"On the contrary, mon petit lapin." Francis said. "It was really sad."

"Oh… err… and what with that?"

"Did I tell you that I love you?"

"I don't."

"I do." Francis said, Arthur could picture him smiling, "And yeah, I'm coming there next week."

* * *

"So, are we going?" Arthur asked standing up and wiping away from his favorite sweater crumbles from Alfred's meal.

"Oh, yeah! Of course!" Alfred exclaimed and immediately stood up. Arthur shot him a look, checked the time on his wrist clock and then searched for the panels with the arrival's time. Alfred followed him looking around him like a very curious child, pointing and laughing at whatever he found weird and oh-so-British.

Arthur decided to ignore him, waited with everybody else for the plane to land, waited with everybody else for the passengers to make their first step in Arthur's homeland.

And then there he was.

Francis was looking gorgeous as usual. He had put on his most fancy clothes, holding his sunglasses on one hand and his luggage on the other.

Arthur remembered his old self from seven months before and still wondered how everything could come down to this. He tried to think again how one thing was connected to the other and made him wait with everybody else, along with Alfred, for that guy who thought too much about his appearance to be normal.

But who cared.

"Oh, here you are!" Francis said and smiled, nodded at Alfred and gazed at Arthur. Arthur covered his mouth with his hands, tried to look serious and quite pissed off and said:

"Good Lord. It took you ages!"

Alfred laughed.

Francis scowled.

And Arthur wondered if they had been meant to be like this way before that vase had dropped down on the pavement before Francis' astonished face. If they had been meant to bicker for every trivial thing before they had been born.

But who cared.

The important thing now was that Alfred was his friend, that Arthur had tea at least twice a day, that Arthur had threw away all his unsolved crosswords, that his boss was thinking of giving him a raise, that his colleagues didn't think he was so boring anymore (not after beating one of them into a pulp for calling him a grandpa), that William had gave him back his old jeans, that his mother's memory was now a sweet one, that he will meet a lot of other interesting people in the future, that he was still himself after all these years, but, most of all, that there was a French guy by his side to tease, hit, insult, call a bastard, hold hands with, kiss, embrace, hate and love.

Mostly love.

_The end. _


End file.
